


Unforced Errors

by roommate



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 49,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roommate/pseuds/roommate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only a few things Kyungsoo has complete faith in. (Tennis AU, written for 181cms at <a href="http://sooenaemoured.livejournal.com/4927.html">sooenaemoured 2014</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**( service )**

"Jihoon—"

Kyungsoo grips the racket in his right hand tight. He can feel his pulse shooting to his thumb, the rest of his arm, and then on the base of his throat. Jihoon's grip on his wrist is so tight, he feels like it might break off anytime. "Jihoon, what are you doing?" he asks, but Jihoon doesn't answer. Instead, Jihon grins at him, menacing, and swings his racket. Sharp pain shoots up Kyungsoo's right arm as the frame makes contact with his elbow. Another swing — Kyungsoo cringes in pain, repeats, "Jihoon, what the fuck are you doing—" but Jihoon hears none of his words, just keeps striking his right elbow again and again, each blow making Kyungsoo lose all the feeling in his right arm.

He wakes up with a tiny jerk, a violent breath of life. Beside him, an old lady stirs and grumbles, "Let a woman get some rest."

The dreams have been coming to him more recently — in the middle of his therapy, during service, halfway through the deciding set when he's just about to aim a shot between the feet of his opponent to turn the tides to his favor. It's been easier to shrug off before, back when the only thing he had to worry about was the distance between his dorm and the facility at Arabellastraße, but with the looming presence of Seoul just beyond the clouds, reality hits him hard like a truck, shoots a shiver down his spine.

He winces when he feels a tinge of pain in his right arm. He clenches and unclenches his fist, then the feeling is gone.

When he left Seoul to receive treatment at Germany a year ago, he didn't just leave behind the Korean soil and the Korean air and the food he's grown up eating; he left behind his family, friends, a whole team of young tennis players aspiring to go pro someday, _his life_. Jihoon who had struck his elbow too many times in an attempt to force him to use his left hand, saying, _you don't need your right arm, anyway, right?_ His doubles partner who he'd trusted with his life and his dreams and had even shared them with him once, the first time they ever won a big match as a doubles team.

"We will be arriving at Incheon International Airport shortly. Please keep your seatbelts fastened until the 'fasten seatbelt' sign is turned off. Thank you."

"Well, duh," Kyungsoo mutters, shaking his head a little. He looks out the window, past the clouds and at blotches of color below. He remembers the busy city life, the smell of kimchi around the clock, the gentle pats on the back of supportive team members. He remembers tossing a ball in the air and waiting for the exact moment when he can hit the ball with the sweet spot of the racket, remembers the sound of a perfect shot as the ball bounces off the strings.

He remembers _home._

 

 

Three soft knocks on the door and he can feel his chest constricting. He puts his luggage down at the first sound of footsteps, and he summons his best, brightest smile as he waits. A turn of the doorknob, a light gasp, and his mother's scooping him in his arms and saying, "You didn't tell me you were coming home today!"

He envelops his mother with his arms and squeezes her briefly. "I wanted to surprise you."

"And you did," she says with a small sniffle. She hits his arm lightly, playfully, but quickly apologizes. "Ah, sorry, I keep forgetting—"

"It's fixed now." He stretches his arm, bends his elbow, and his mother smiles in response. "It's okay, don't worry."

His mother never knew much about the injury — all he told her was that his elbow was so royally fucked up and he'd never be able to play tennis again. A few days after and he changed the last bit — "Maybe there's nope. I mean, I heard of a tennis player — a whole lot of them — who received treatment in Germany and were able to play professionally again," he had explained. "Goran Ivanisevic? Andy Murray? Michael Chang?" he even went on to say, and his mother just nodded in approval before asking, "So when do you fly out?"

His mother runs a hand up and down his arm now. She takes a deep breath, then says, "So, can you…"

"Play tennis again?" He chuckles. It would've been harder to laugh at the question before. "The last three months of my therapy have all been focused on getting back to playing competitively. My serve's as good as ever."

She frowns and squeezes his arm lightly. "If I so much as see you squirming in pain—"

" _Umma,_ " he interrupts even before she can finish. He wears his best smile, the one he knows can pacify her, then continues, "I told you, I'm fine. I'll be more careful this time."

And he makes a promise to himself to be more cautious this time around. He hasn't spent an entire year in Germany only to return to Korea with a broken arm and an even more broken spirit. He's been hitting balls harder in the last month of the therapy, winning practice matches left and right. "You'll never be able to do your trick shots anymore with your right hand, though. But why don't you use your real playing hand?" he remembers his doctor asking. He flexes his fingers on instinct. He can hear his knuckles cracking. The only thing that's missing is a racket in his hand.

"Then I would love to see you play again," his mother finally says. She pulls away with an easy smile. "Let's get your things inside."

He nods and tightens his grip around the luggages. The creak of the door is as terrifying as the first bounce of the ball against the sweet spot of the racket. It's a sound he has to get used to again.

 

 

"Do Kyungsoo, _in the flesh!_ "

Monday mornings haven't been this alive and full of activity in a while, he thinks as Jongdae waves at him and throws his arms around him, slapping his back lightly. "You didn't tell us you were coming back!" he adds, pulling away to hold Kyungsoo at an arm's length.

Kyungsoo's initial response is a shrug; his second, a small smile. "I didn't even tell my mom," he finishes and, beside him, Chanyeol pinches his stomach, Chanyeol's eyes going wide as he mouths, _you lost all your baby fat!_

"I think it's the beer."

Jongdae nods. "It must be the beer. He's been cutting down on it." Jongdae fakes a gasp. "I am _affronted._ "

"I don't think any of us are legal to drink beer just yet."

Chanyeol shrugs. "Oh well, it was worth a shot."

He spots familiar faces on their way to the courts — Oh Sehun and Kim Jongin who were still freshmen when he'd left for Germany, Huang Zitao whose Korean was now more fluid than it had been a year back. A few more here and there, and then there's the coach trying to make sense of the ruckus the freshmen have started.

"They're supposed to be swinging rackets, not having a sword fight with them," Chanyeol comments, massaging his temples as he does so. His most recent source of a headache is these little guys running around and swinging their rackets. Chanyeol's patient for most things, but the sound of a young kids and their rackets clashing drives him insane, so much so that he has to ball his fists to keep himself from yelling, _shut the fuck up!_

"So how did coach take Kris and Joonmyun-hyung's graduation?" Kyungsoo asks. He rests a hand on the small of Chanyeol's back.

Chanyeol finally exhales and snorts, a more relaxed smile slowly easing back onto his lips. "Oh man, that was the most _hilarious thing_ ever!"

Chanyeol's haflway through talking about Kris' elaborate speech about bringing out the best in oneself and always keeping your guard up in the face of an opponent when a slightly less familiar face steps in and beams in his direction, then ruffles Chanyeol's and Jongdae's hair. "New friend?" the stranger asks, and Jongdae's lips slip into a small 'o'. He can see Jongdae's Adam's Apple bobbing, Chanyeol's lips tugging up into a weird smile, and Chanyeol withdraws his arm from around Kyungsoo's shoulder as he stands up and addresses the stranger.

"Ah, Baekhyun, this is Do Kyungsoo. He's our—"

"Baekhyun? Byun Baekhyun?" Kyungsoo asks, eyebrows furrowed. He gives the stranger another look before standing from his seat and extending a hand in Baekhyun's direction. "It's… weird seeing you here after—"

"Years," Baekhyun finishes. He laughs a little. "Like, a really, really long time. The last time I saw you, you were still wearing one of those too-short shorts when playing tennis and—"

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at him. "Shut up, Byun."

He doesn't remember much about Baekhyun, only that Baekhyun is a great player and possesses a backhand that he can only dream of. 2003, a rather lax championship match in the indoor courts. Kyungsoo had just turned ten then, and Baekhyun was so much taller than he was, and they shook hands when they approached the net as all players did. They both hadn't dropped a game until the tiebreaker, and Baekhyun's stamina gave him away, earning Kyungsoo a win against Baekhyun. Six months after, for a different tournament, they faced each other in the quarterfinals where Baekhyun whipped his sorry ass 7-5, 6-4 in a match that lasted a little over an hour. Then there was Baekhyun's palm flat on his shoulder as they talked about the holes in their play, that Kyungsoo could have won if he hadn't kept trying to serve an American Twist down the middle, that _your grip is too loose; better shape up for our next match, Do Kyungsoo._

"You haven't changed," Baekhyun says now, lips tugged up in a familiar smile that Kyungsoo had long been wanting to wipe off his face. A nice forehand to the cheek should do it, if Baekhyun still doesn't have the focus of a tennis player who actually wants to win, but Baekhyun's hand is warm when he takes Kyungsoo's in a handshake. There's the tentative squeeze before Baekhyun lets go, and Kyungsoo feels sharp pain shooting up his arm; Baekhyun didn't even squeeze that hard.

"Is your arm good?" Baekhyun asks after a while, after the coach rounds them up for a few announcements. Chanyeol and Jongdae are heading to court number five and Baekhyun's following him to court number three.

He moves his racket to the left, tightens his grip, and practices his swing. He turns to Baekhyun with a small smile and says, "Better than ever."

 

 

Six games in and Baekhyun's breathing is already shallow.

"Weak," Kyungsoo says loud enough for Baekhyun to hear and, even from the opposite side of the court, he can clearly see Baekhyun sticking up his middle finger at him. "Gonna get you kicked out of the courts. Unsportsmanlike behavior," he soon says, and Baekhyun scowls and yells, "Just serve the goddamned ball!"

His opponents back in Germany were good, but none of them are half as skilled as Baekhyun. Baekhyun knows technique and timing, knows the type of spin to add to a ball to force Kyungsoo to run after the shots and fire them back at him with laughable power that he can send the ball toppling over to the other side of the net with a flick of the wrist. Baekhyun's service isn't that bad, either, if he could stop holding back on the backswing, but it's sharp enough to earn him some of the most crucial points of the game. "You have to get that follow through properly if you don't want to injure your shoulder," he tells Baekhyun when they meet at the net. Baekhyun keeps his eyes closed as he grips the edge of the net tight, trying to catch his breath.

"Says the guy who choked just two games before he won the match," Baekhyun teases. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath before continuing, "Ugh shit, can't breathe. Gonna die. I can't do rallies past twenty shots anymore. If you were injured then how do you—"

"I injured my shoulder, not my knees." Kyungsoo laughs and Baekhyun punches him lightly on the arm, quickly followed by a whispered _oops, sorry_. "Good game, though," he says after a while and, once Baekhyun has caught his breath, Baekhyun gives him a toothy grin. 2004 finals. Baekhyun had lost the match 5-7. Kyungsoo cried during his acceptance speech, though; Baekhyun laughed at him silly for five minutes straight.

"I was pathetic. And to think you're even easing into your new playing hand!" Baekhyun says. "You better watch your back. I might aim a serve to your nape and you'll never be able to play again."

Kyungsoo looks over shoulder. "That's a bad joke."

"Shit, I didn't mean—"

Kyungsoo cackles. "Kidding. Come on, let's get some water. You look like you could use some."

The sting of the memory of being hit with a racket to his elbow throbs in his muscles. It doesn't hurt as much now, but maybe without all the medicine and the rehab, it would still cut his flesh open, make him drop his racket to the ground. It's his left hand that aches now, and he props his racket under his right arm. The only thing he can grip with his right hand right now is a ball; anything as slim as the handle of a racket will take time to get used to.

 

 

Thirty minutes after and Chanyeol's already asking for a match, saying, "C'mon, I haven't played with you in a long while." He agrees, anyway, muscles relaxing when Chanyeol rests his hands on his shoulders and pushes him back to the courts, trying as much as possible to do his best train sound imitation.

"This kinda feels like freshman year," Chanyeol whispers. His muscles tense for a while so he draws his shoulders back, cracks his neck a little. Chanyeol lets his hands fall to his sides in response. "How were your classes there in Germany? Boring?"

"A bit." Kyungsoo chuckles, then spins the racket by the throat. He stops when Chanyeol's gaze on his hand lingers longer than the usual. "You know how I feel about online classes."

"Completely unnecessary," they chime at the same time. Chanyeol bursts into a peal of laughter, racket sliding down, and Chanyeol barely catches it by the beam. Kyungsoo pulls away from the conversation with an easy grin, walks over to the other side of the court as he whistles a small tune under his breath. Chanyeol raises the ball in front of him, signalling the beginning of the game, and Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder briefly before turning his attention back on the raised ball, Chanyeol's fingers around it, the small smile on Chanyeol's lips before he tosses the ball in the air.

Kyungsoo fastens his grip on the racket.

Chanyeol's play hasn't changed much from when they last had a match — feet too far apart when he aims a flat serve to the T, right foot _almost_ overlapping the left when he bends low and frames the ball with the L of his left hand. Chanyeol's first serve is always the best, the hardest to hit — Chanyeol stretches his arm to the fullest, hitting the sweet spot earlier than the usual, more power going into the shot, and Kyungsoo has to receive with two hands on the grip of his racket. This means he's defenseless if Chanyeol decides to aim to his blind spot. It means Chanyeol's getting better and Kyungsoo needs more practice and that if he doesn't pull a trick from his sleeve, this is a losing battle.

Kyungsoo drags his racket down, swings forward and aims for the leftmost corner of Chanyeol's court. Chanyeol slides to his left, aiming a backhand down the center. Kyungsoo counters with a straight shot between Chanyeol's feet and Chanyeol looks up at him once the ball bounces off the court. "This isn't a real match? Why are you attempting to get rid of my balls?" Chanyeol yells from the other side of the court, and Kyungsoo buries his face in his hands even before the linesman can call _out!_

"I'm going to make you pay, Kyungsoo," Chanyeol says now, the silly grin he was wearing earlier melting into an easier smile.and Kyungsoo tightens his grip on the handle even more, until he can feel his nails digging into his skin. He watches as Chanyeol moves to the other side of the court, as Chanyeol dribbles the ball. His eyes are drawn to Chanyeol's fingers, Chanyeol's lips just beyond his hands, the curve of Chanyeol's body when he bends before hitting the ball.

He takes a deep breath.

 

 

Jongdae becomes quiet company three consecutive matches after. He watches as Chanyeol runs his hand up and down Jongdae's back, with Jongdae trying to even out his breathing as he clutches his knees tight, chest heaving. Baekhyun has just finished his last match and is twirling the racket by the throat. His playing palm is a bright shade of red. Baekhyun's holding his racket by his left hand.

"You're gripping your racket too tight," Kyungsoo says when Baekhyun plops down beside him, legs folded beneath all the weight.

"Oh, this?" Baekhyun chuckles as he lays the racket down on the seat, wincing a bit when he opens his hand wide. There are faint red lines where the palm meets the fingers, and Kyungsoo immediately grabs Baekhyun's hand, fingers tracing the marks lightly. Baekhyun howls, then quickly covers his mouth, then hangs his head low when Kyungsoo pinches his palm lightly. 

Jongdae lays a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder as he settles on the bleachers. "Been telling him for the longest time already," Jongdae begins. His voice is still shaky and breathy. "That he should loosen it a bit. You don't want blisters on your hand, Baek, unless you want to run into an injury halfway through a match."

Baekhyun looks up at Jongdae, then at Kyungsoo, then at his open palm. He retracts his hand and keeps his fingers spread out. Chanyeol coughs and beams at all of them. Kyungsoo laughs a little and says, "Hey, people recover from injuries. But yeah, Baekhyun, you have to correct that habit of yours."

"Old habits die hard!" Baekhyun calls out long after Kyungsoo has excused himself to freshen up in the showers. Kyungsoo laughs to himself, draws his shoulders back, and hears his bones crack. It's hardly the most comforting sound, but when you've been hearing nothing but the measured counts of _one, two, three_ during therapy, this — the sound of his aching body, tennis balls bouncing off the courts, laughter just a few meters from him — can be considered music.

Kyungsoo props his racket under his right arm and turns the knob with his left.

 

 

He discovers Baekhyun's struggle with English over lunch, a week after his return. Baekhyun has long given up on trying to enunciate a Bruno Mars song, and Chanyeol still hasn't recovered from his laughter fest. Jongdae's stuck between trying to swallow the last of his lunch meal and pounding on his chest just to get the thing out, but Baekhyun proves to be a very great distraction, now launching into his best imitation of Britney Spears. His choice of song is 'Toxic'.

"I'm gonna fail this exam if I don't get the pronunciation right," Baekhyun complains, hands folded under under his face. "No, I mean, I better start with Britney, right? Her voice has this certain curl and it kind of makes her eat her words while singing so if I do this right—" Jongdae spews water all over Baekhyun's hair and Baekhyun looks up, meeting Jongdae in the eye. Kyungsoo's biting the back of his hand and Chanyeol has curled up in his seat. "Well _thank you!_ I'm glad my misery brings you happiness!"

Kyungsoo lets his head fall forward, bumping so hard on the table that it makes him scowl between laughter.

"Kyungsoo's pretty amazing, though?" Chanyeol says after a while, once he has regained his breath. Jongdae's still struggling with something — stuck between his teeth this time, but he still blames it on Baekhyun's weird Britney imitations. "I mean, back in English I, I remember you delivering Shylock's speech and you really did well," he continues, a careful smile on the curve of the lip. "Or maybe that's just because you came in full costume."

"We will _not_ talk about the costume," Kyungsoo retorts, an accusing finger pointed at Chanyeol. "I do things for a fee, Baekhyun. Lunch for the next two weeks doesn't sound so bad."

"You're gonna make my grandma pack me extra food?" Baekhyun looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed in a lame attempt to pull off a puppy dog look. "Really? Have a heart, Soo. The poor lady's old."

Kyungsoo gulps hard. "Then cook the lunch yourself," he simply replies, then returns to sipping his water. To Chanyeol, he says, "You've got Jongdae's kimchi between your teeth."

Kyungsoo pretends not to see that knowing looking in Chanyeol's eyes or that split-second of panic in Jongdae's features, or even the confusion in Baekhyun's eyes. He balls up a sheet of tissue paper, throws it at Chanyeol, and Chanyeol adds too much force when he throws it in Jongdae's direction. Baekhyun's still lost, stuck between the talk on English help and Chanyeol having kimchi in his mouth. "After practice?" Kyungsoo whispers in Baekhyun's ear, and Baekhyun exhales loudly, an easy smile surfacing on his lips.

"I'll buy you ice cream," Baekhyun promises.

There's still the battle scars from when Baekhyun stole a fourth of Jongdae's homemade kimchi on the corners of his lips. Kyungsoo doesn't reach out to wipe off the red stains with his thumb, doesn't hand Baekhyun some tissue, even. He sits on his hands, grinning at Baekhyun in response, and stares at Chanyeol and Jongdae arguing about the stray ball of tissue in Jongdae's glass of water.

 

 

"So. Baekhyun."

Kyungsoo looks up at Chanyeol, looks around for an audience before returning his attention to his bag. He's been arranging his books for the past five minutes and Jongdae and Baekhyun seem to have made themselves comfortable a few good feet away from him and Chanyeol. "What about him?" Kyungsoo asks, fingers idly running through the pages of the books. He pushes the World Literature one further down, and out pops the case for his glasses.

He slips his glasses on and looks at Chanyeol's hand on his shoulder before finally meeting Chanyeol in the eye. "I said, what about him?"

"Are you okay? I mean, with having him around?"

Of the three, Chanyeol has known him the longest. They've been friends since middle school back when they both thought a middle part was still the coolest hairstyle to sport, when the back of Chanyeol's hair didn't stick out like a swollen muscle whenever he wore his hair down. Chanyeol has seen him struggle with his backhand and master it, has sat beside him through every Math class sans the one they're taking right now for senior year. Chanyeol's vocal about things that bother him a lot and those that make him feel uneasy — this is somewhere in between, if the way Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows is anything to go by.

"He's loud," Kyungsoo begins, pausing to chuckle. He shrugs his shoulders lightly, but Chanyeol keeps his hand firmly in place. "But he's alright."

The crease on Chanyeol's forehead eases, but he still keeps his voice low. "Because you apparently know him from a couple of tournaments you joined in the past, but you've never talked about him." Chanyeol laughs a little. "I didn't even know you joined that many tourneys. Did your father—"

"Yeah, he did," Kyungsoo quickly replies. "And Baekhyun's just a fellow tennis player. If anything important happened, then I would have—"

"—told me right away. Yes, I know. But…" Chanyeol's voice drifts off and so does his gaze, dropping to his feet like there's something so interesting about black leather shoes and dark pants that reach past the ankle. Chanyeol has always looked good in uniform, but the way tennis clothes fall on his shoulders and his hips is on a league of its own. "You didn't tell me you were coming back. You didn't even tell me what happened between you and Jihoon."

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and slings his bag over his shoulder, grip tightening on the band. "We're going to be late for class," he simply replies, then walks ahead, past Baekhyun and Jongdae who are now arguing about Britney and Christina and Beyonce. He doesn't look over his shoulder to check on Chanyeol, but he knows the sound of Chanyeol's footsteps well — on and off courts, like he's memorized each and every movement in his mind at least a thousand times before.

Chanyeol catches up in a few seconds and falls into step with Kyungsoo. He doesn't say anything, but he does bump his arm into Chanyeol's deliberately. When Chanyeol looks at him with a question in the way cocks his head, he simply smiles and whispers before slipping into his next class, "I'll see you in the courts."

 

 

Jongdae drops by his class on his way to practice. "Can I take you up on that English lessons offer?" Jongdae asks, and Kyungsoo nudges him lightly with his elbow, twisting it to earn a light giggle from Jongdae. Jongdae's ticklish everywhere; it just takes the right person to find the weak spots.

"I don't think I can take another person under my wing," Kyungsoo replies later, when Jongdae has already recovered from laughing. "I don't think this year will be slightly as easy as before. I mean, we're—"

"Graduating," Jongdae finishes. He turns the knob to the exit, holds the door for Kyungsoo as they both slip from the corridor. "And you're still adjusting." Jongdae slips an arm around Kyungsoo's shoulder and squeezes his arm lightly; he tries not to wince on instinct. Some habits are hard to break. "You're doing a pretty good job, though!"

Kyungsoo laughs a little. "I try hard. Very hard."

"Yeah. You weren't this talkative before. And this nice."

Kyungsoo pinches Jongdae in his side. "You said something?"

Jongdae stifles a _fuck you!_ just as soon as the coach arrives.

Sehun and Jongin are already warming up on court two and Zitao is helping out two freshmen with their backswing footwork. "Remember — the follow through is important. Let your arm swing naturally, or else you might get yourself injured. Understood?" Despite the sharp look he wears during matches, Zitao has a way with people outside the court. More approachable than Sehun and Jongin, at least, and marginally more dependable when it comes to making sure all the freshmen are accounted for.

"Hey there, little guy," a familiar, much deeper voice says from behind.

Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder and grins. "Yunho-sonsaengnim," he says, catching Yunho's outstretched hand in a high-five. Yunho gives him a light pat on the back as he moves closer.

"You're gonna play doubles for the team, right? The first tournament is in two months."

"I don't think so." He can feel his smile stiffening at the corners. He clenches and unclenches his fists. "I'm not sure if I can play doubles again. Singles, maybe? I _was_ singles three before you decided to put me in doubles."

"That's because you and Jihoon had the best tennis harmony I've seen in years." Yunho ruffles Kyungsoo's hair, and Kyungsoo tries not to scowl; respect, _manners,_ even if he's already seen Yunho in his sleepwear, hair tousled so badly Kyungsoo had to resist the urge to reach up and comb Yunho's hair down.

"Jihoon's no longer in the team, though."

"So you two are a package deal? Do I have to woo Jihoon and make him come back to high school after spending, I don't know, how many years in Yonsei?"

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and holds it — right there, when his chest feels the fullest and there's a lump of Lord knows what lodged in his throat. His mind goes back to when Joonmyun was still the captain and made Zitao team up with Lu Han. Kris was singles two; Yixing, singles three. Chanyeol still hadn't perfected his forehand then, and still struggled the types of grips he had to use. Kyungsoo wanted to challenge Yixing for a chance to snag the singles three spot, but there Jihoon was with his easy smile and a warm palm on the small of Kyungsoo's back as he said, "Doubles isn't so bad."

"I'm not playing doubles," Kyungsoo reiterates, enunciating each syllable, dragging each one out. "I'll fight for singles one, but you can't expect me to play doubles again. I'm sorry, sonsaengnim."

"Never the type to settle for second best." Yunho laughs a little and ruffles Kyungsoo's hair. A light squeeze of the arm, then, "Ranking tournament is in an hour. Round up the others."

Kyungsoo gives Yunho a small smile before turning on his heel. Jongdae's still there, standing, signature smile on his lips. "I'll tell the others," Jongdae simply says before walking ahead, telling everyone he passes that there will be ranking matches for the upcoming national tournament, and Kyungsoo approaches the freshmen Zitao has left behind in favor of pinching Sehun's ear and giving Jongin a stern look as he says, "Don't pick on the young ones!"

"So, ready to be defeated?"

Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder and snorts, rolling his eyes. "Don't be crazy," is all he says even as Baekhyun slings an arm around his shoulder and teases him, saying, _you're just afraid; you're shaking in fear!_ His fingers are cold, yes, but there is no fear; if anything, his stomach is just lurching from hunger or that bad episode at lunch, or the weird weather, or the unfamiliar warmth pressed to his side.

 

 

The match ups go up in thirty minutes, and Kyungsoo almost snorts when he sees the names. Chanyeol has a first round bye, but that's to be expected — "Perks of a captain," Chanyeol says, grinning, but quickly snaps back into his calculated smile when Yunho shoots him a stern look.

"How come I have to go through the first round, then?" Jongdae asks now, and Chanyeol gives him that look that says _I am going to kill you, Kim. Don't say that in front of the coach._ Jongdae brushes it off, even the stiff smile Yunho gives him, and slips just beside Yunho as he announces, "You know, what I love the most about this team is the freedom of speech that we exercise. Those in favor of kicking out Chanyeol, say 'aye'."

Baekhyun coughs up a weak 'aye' and bumps his hips into Kyungsoo's when Kyungsoo says one in agreement, as well.

Kyungsoo and Baekhyun being on opposite sides of the draw means Zitao and Sehun will have to make a quarterfinal exit, and Jongin will have to duke it out with Chanyeol in the same round. Kyungsoo will inevitably run into Jongdae, and Baekhyun will be facing the winner of the Jongin-Chanyeol match. Kyungsoo may have stopped competing in tournaments but his prediction skills are still fairly commendable; he'd called Andy Roddick's win over Dudi Sela in the 2008 China open, his loss to Novak Djokovic in the US Open, and every loss Roddick had incurred from that day on. It was like predicting dread and suffering; the only time he'd been wrong was when he suffered a hit to his elbow on the same year.

He shakes his head, recalibrates. Baekhyun's hand in front of him is a force that draws him back to the present. "Snap out of it, Soo. Don't let your guard down."

"It's not down," Kyungsoo retorts. He slaps Baekhyun's hand away. "And stop calling me _Soo_."

"There's no other way shorten your name, though. You don't look like a 'Kyung'. You're more of a 'Soo'."

"And you look very annoying right now, Baekhyun." Kyungsoo exhales loudly. "How did Chanyeol and Jongdae put up with you?"

"They didn't," Baekhyun replies, the last syllable drifting off into humming. His fingers tighten the strings of his racket and Kyungsoo's eyes are drawn to Baekhyun's knuckles, the way his veins show when he grips hard at the strings. Baekhyun looks up at him and smiles, soft and easy, unlike the tension in his racket. "I put up with them."

 

 

Seeing Jongdae opposite him on court is a bit unnerving. Jongdae grins at him, bright and confident, and even with all those practice sessions and late nights spent talking about tennis tactics, he still feels as if he doesn't know Jongdae's style like the back of his hand. Jongdae doesn't hit the heaviest of balls, nor does he fire the sharpest shots at the corners, but he's a tactician — he can turn a 0-40 during his service game to a 40-40 faster than the opponent can say _medical timeout_.

"Still the best server I know," Kyungsoo whispers when they both approach one of the ball boys carrying their towels.

Jongdae wipes his face, the grin off his lips, and winks at Kyungsoo. "Come on, don't be too easy on me. I know you still have a few tricks up your sleeve."

"You haven't played against the left-handed me before." Kyungsoo loosens his grip a little. "How can you read my movements?"

"Easy," Jongdae replies, like Kyungsoo has just asked him a stupid question. "You're holding back. This is your right-handed game. You've always been a southpaw, Kyungsoo, you can't hide that from me. Your form gives you away."

Kyungsoo shoots Jongdae a glance before heading back to his side of the court. He takes three tennis balls in his hand, drops the one that feels the roughest on his skin to the ground, and tucks the other ball under his spandex. "Ready?" he calls out to Jongdae, raising the ball in front of him.

"Hit me," Jongdae replies. Kyungsoo tries not to wince.

He releases the ball in the air, right foot facing forward, left foot in a forty-five degree angle. The yellow ball disappears when the sun sneaks up from behind it; Kyungsoo trusts muscle memory and swings his arm forward, the topmost part of the face of the racket grazing the ball, and Kyungsoo waits for the ball to hit the sweet spot before releasing it. The serve lands nicely between Jongdae's legs. The ball hits the ground and takes a different turn, shooting up instead of to the left, and Jongdae narrowly avoids getting hit when he slides to the right. His eyes are wide when he looks up at Kyungsoo.

"I didn't mean it like that!"

Kyungsoo grins, reaches for another ball, and prepares to serve.

Jongdae catches on quickly, crafting a good enough counter to the American Twist by sliding to the left to return it with a double-handed backhand. Kyungsoo aims it the back, just a few centimeters inside the line, when Jongdae approaches the net. The first time he does it, Jongdae frowns at him from the other side of the net; the second, third, fourth time, Jongdae snarls at him and says, "Switch to your right, quick! I won't take a stronger serve to the balls, Kyungsoo!"

The match lasts for an hour, with Jongdae pushing the last game to a tiebreaker that reaches 20-18. "I love your current form," Jongdae says when they meet at the net, patting Kyungsoo's back while trying to ease back into normal breathing. "But is that really a habit of yours, choking on the last few games? You could have totally ended that match 6-4 or 7-5."

Kyungsoo shrugs. "You were a tough opponent."

"This is not about me, Kyungsoo. This is about you potentially screwing up your game."

"I won't screw up," he promises, locking his arms behind his back. His racket's between his legs, and the frame digs into his skin. _Too cold,_ he thinks; the sun is up too high, but the wind is still too chilly even for two players who have just spent the past hour running around in court. "It will just take a while to get back in the game."

"You _are_ back in the game." Jongdae snatches his racket and his knees shake a bit. "Physically, yes, but your mind is elsewhere."

"Set on winning the singles one spot," Kyungsoo answers. "And defeating Baekhyun."

Kyungsoo looks at Baekhyun who has just finished serving out the last game, then at Chanyeol who's now approaching the net, hand outstretched to greet Baekhyun with a handshake. "Finals is in thirty minutes," Jongdae whispers beside him, then hands him his racket before slipping from the scene.

Kyungsoo grips his racket tight and takes a deep breath. Thirty minutes to recalibrate.

 

 

Baekhyun's greeting is a cheeky smile and his eyes disappearing behind slits. When he meets Kyungsoo at the net, he extends his hand and says, automatically, "You'll be showing me that American Twist, right? I _do_ deserve to see a serve like that, right?"

Kyungsoo takes the outstretched hand and laughs — both for show and because Baekhyun _does_ look funny, especially with that lopsided smile. "It's not something I use on people on a whim, _Byun._ You have to earn it."

"I'll earn it along with the singles one spot."

Kyungsoo squeezes Baekhyun's hand. Their fingers are cold. "I'd like to see you try."

The umpire walks up to them, coin in hand. "Heads or tails? The winner serves first."

"Heads," says Baekhyun even before Kyungsoo can answer. To Kyungsoo, he says, "I'll weed that serve out of you as early as your first service game."

Kyungsoo simply shakes his head.

Baekhyun is loud, his words sharp, but the confidence is backed with skill. His backhand is still the best Kyungsoo has seen in amateur tennis, and Kyungsoo has spent days and nights back in Germany playing that swing in his mind — the Baekhyun in his memory is still that of the ten-year-old tennis player he has been playing against since he was nine. Baekhyun has changed a lot — has a more defined jawline now, is much more built — and he sports a better hairstyle now, but Kyungsoo can't forget a swing or a ball toss or footwork, for that matter. Once he plays against someone, his opponent's movements are engraved in his mind like a memory that will never be flushed out.

Baekhyun's service game is clean. He misses the first two first serves, but that means Baekhyun can get the opportunity to land an ace on the second serve. It takes an awful lot of skill to do that; sometimes, magic.

Kyungsoo doesn't reveal his tricks just yet, goes for his standard flat and slice serves and plays from the middle of the court, not going too far back. Net play is an open invitation for Baekhyun to play more aggressively; baseline play is too safe, drives Baekhyun to frustration. Kyungsoo plays fair, slips a few mind puzzles in between, stepping a bit too close to the net then retreating to the baseline from time to time.

"You're driving me crazy," Baekhyun says after Kyungsoo takes the break, setting himself up for the Championship game at 5-4. "I swear, if I had your legs—"

"You'd be small," Kyungsoo quickly retorts. He tightens his grip on his racket as he dribbles the ball with it. "You'd lose your teeny tiny advantage over me. Do you want that?"

"I don't need height," Baekhyun counters. He bends forward, racket poised between his legs. "I just need my skill."

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and clutches the ball in his right hand. He tosses the ball straight up, swings his left arm forward as he slices through the ball with an easy motion, cutting through the wind. Baekhyun is quick on his feet, moving left, catching the ball and returning it with a backhand. Kyungsoo answers with a forehand straight to the far right corner of the court, but Baekhyun is too quick — he's sliding to the right, arm stretched to the farthest possible point, and he flicks his wrist, sending the ball bouncing up so high. Baekhyun is setting something up — Kyungsoo knows this move, but he hasn't seen it in a while. He holds his right hand up, framing the ball, and from the corner of his eye he sees Baekhyun moving to the baseline.

He catches the ball with his racket, flicks his wrist with just enough power to make it cross over to Baekhyun's court, the surface of the ball grazing the net just lightly. Baekhyun's shaking his head by the end of the point, hands on his hips. 15-0.

Kyungsoo smiles, exhales loudly. Three points to go.

He misses the first service by a width of a hair. Baekhyun is grinning on the other side of the net, body slightly facing the left. _Too easy,_ Kyungsoo thinks, then tosses the ball in the air — straight up again. He hits it with a forward slicing motion, and his right hand snaps to the throat of the racket in preparation for Baekhyun's return. Same old tactic — Baekhyun goes for a lob, waiting for the smash that he'll probably return with a backhand. Baekhyun loves aiming shots to people's backhand side, but Kyungsoo has the upperhand in that department. _Southpaw,_ he hears in Jongdae's voice in his mind, and he waits for the ball to hit the ground and bounce back up before hitting a forehand. Baekhyun returns it with an easy forehand that hits the highest part of the net. Baekhyun scrunches his nose. Kyungsoo balls his right fist. 30-0.

If it's not the power Baekhyun puts into his shots that wears him down, it's his poor footwork, occasionally his poor form. He planks his right foot only inches away from his left when he should be crossing it over to the left all the way, cuts the swing of his arm when he's struggling to move from one position to the next. _You have to fix that,_ tiny Kyungsoo says in his mind, then there's the image of the 2003 Baekhyun smiling weakly at him, shaking his hand when Baekhyun says, _thanks for the great match, nonetheless._

And then there's 2004 Baekhyun telling him that he thinks about his shots too much, hardly ever puts any heart into his play. Kyungsoo tosses the ball up in the air, aims a flat serve down the T. Baekhyun doesn't catch the ball with his racket in time. 40-0.

He looks up from dribbling the ball and meets Baekhyun in the eye. Baekhyun is still smiling; Kyungsoo isn't winning, not from the position he's in.

This is a draw.

Kyungsoo cracks his neck, keeps his eyes fixed on Baekhyun for a while before gripping the ball tightly in his hand. He tosses it slightly to the left, racket waiting just behind his head for the right moment. He tilts his racket slightly and slices from left to right, body still facing the side, and from where he is he can see the biggest grin on Baekhyun's lips, even as the ball lands near Baekhyun's feet and bounces to the left.

"Game, set, and match, Do! 6-4!"

Kyungsoo grips his racket tight. He hears Chanyeol and Jongdae's screaming from behind him, Zitao's cheers. Sehun and Jongin are somewhere there, in the crowd, but Kyungsoo can't be bothered to look over his shoulder or around him to look for them. He keeps his eyes fixed on the next, Baekhyun's approaching figure, his own feet.

"So, singles one," Baekhyun says when they meet at the net, hand outstretched in a handshake. "I guess I'll have to do better next time, huh?"

"Fix your swing. You're still holding back on the follow through." Kyungsoo gives Baekhyun's hand a light squeeze before letting go, but Baekhyun catches Kyungsoo's hand before it falls to his side. "And stop half-assing your footwork."

"I don't have legs as hardworking as yours," Baekhyun retorts, then sticks out his tongue. "Think you can help me in that department?"

"Don't get too chummy with me now," Kyungsoo mumbles but smiles, anyway, even as Baekhyun slides beside him and snakes an arm around his shoulder, pulling their sweaty bodies together. "I just beat your sorry ass."

Baekhyun nods like he actually understands, but the grin on his lips is a complete giveaway. Yunho shakes their hand and whispers something about the rankings and having to fix schedules and, "Chanyeol, come here. We've got some paperwork to do." Baekhyun is humming a small melody under his breath and Kyungsoo knows, he just knows, that Baekhyun has won.

 

 

English pronunciation class begins as soon as Kyungsoo slips back into his uniform, tennis clothes dumped in a plastic bag that he has tucked somewhere in his duffel bag. Baekhyun still has too much energy, humming beside him as they make their way to the food cart just across the street. "I get my personal English _hagwon_ , how cool is that?" Baekhyun says, gripping at Kyungsoo's wrist tightly to pull him back when a car speeds by.

"Can't let you die just yet; you still have to teach me how to sing Britney Spears."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes but doesn't shake off Baekhyun's hand. "Can't you at least try a Backstreet Boys song or—"

"Nope! Sorry, I'm more of an 'N Sync boy."

English 101 by the food cart mostly consists of Baekhyun trying to stuff his mouth with food in between learning how to properly enunciate English syllables. Kyungsoo explains some of the lines of _This I Promise You,_ and Baekhyun pops a question from time to time — "How can he keep the person safe? What if someone harms him? Aren't promises made to be broken?"

"I didn't write the song," Kyungsoo replies, patience thinning as he tries to put on his best smile. His muscles still ache from the last two matches he has played, and spring weather isn't exactly the most tolerable at the moment. Bakehyun just grins at him, pearly whites blinding even with just the soft light from the lamp post illuminating the scene. His lips hang parted, stuck between scowling at Baekhyun and asking him _why do you keep doing this?_ , and Baekhyun pops a slice of ttekbokki inside, the corners of his lips tugging further up and turning his grin into a devilish smile.

The walk to the bus station is fairly quiet, save for Baekhyun belting out an 'N Sync song from time to time. "Jongdae would have a field day if he heard you," Kyungsoo mentions once they reach the station. There are at least seven or eight people lined up, waiting for the same bus as theirs. Baekhyun keeps moving in his spot, swaying his hips and twisting his torso, craning his neck as if looking for something beyond the darkness behind them. Kyungsoo fastens him to his place, palms flat on Baekhyun's shoulder, and Baekhyun laughs a little when Kyungsoo tiptoes.

"Tiny," Baekhyun comments, then erupts into a peal of laughter.

There's enough space in the bus when they finally get settled, but Baekhyun sits too close, their thighs pressed together, warm even with the airconditioning turned up. Kyungsoo thinks of inching away and moving closer to the window, but Baekhyun soon drums his fingers on his thigh and Kyungsoo keeps his eyes fixed in front of him, three or four more heads swaying with each movement of the bus.

"Are you this quiet all the time?" Baekhyun asks three stops in. Four more and they'll be alighting. 

Kyungsoo shifts in his seat, breathing out when his school pants no longer stick to his skin. "I just enjoy silence from time to time."

Baekhyun shrugs, presses close again. "I like silence. Chanyeol and Jongdae are too noisy sometimes."

_You're noisy, yourself,_ Kyungsoo wants to say, but he feels a tiny jerk when the bus starts moving again. Baekhyun loses balance, leaning to his side just a bit, but quickly recovers, straightening himself up and adjusting his school bag on his lap.

Kyungsoo can feel Baekhyun's heat through his pants. It's a nice contrast to the cold weather outside.

 

 

The next few weeks are peppered with practices, Yunho making them do shorter yet more matches to train for specific areas for improvement. Chanyeol's doing backhand practice with Jongdae. Zitao's teaching Jongin and Sehun how to do the I formation more effectively, reiterating to Sehun that, "You have to bend your knees and crouch. Lower, now, come on—" Kyungsoo's assigned to Baekhyun, and Kyungsoo lightly taps Baekhyun's ass with his racket every time he doesn't move his right foot all the way to the left when he does a backhand.

"It's your best shot, but if you keep getting your footwork wrong, you'll twist your torso too much." Two more taps and Baekhyun's straightens up, still scowling and sticking his tongue out at Kyungsoo. "No, that's not part of footwork. Put your tongue back in."

Baekhyun sniggers for a while before practicing the position again. His backswing is more fluid this time, follows through when he pulls his arm further to the right, opening his chest towards the net. _Beautiful form,_ Kyungsoo thinks. He fires a forehand to Baekhyun's left, smiling when Baekhyun repeats his previous position, a proper backhand receiving stance, chuckles when the ball speeds past him and lands right on the singles line.

"See the difference right footwork can make?" he says when they meet near the benches before they change sides. "What else do you need help on?"

"English," Baekhyun mumbles. He takes a few quick breaths before excusing himself to grab some water. Kyungsoo doesn't follow him out of the court.

Baekhyun doesn't have the best stamina, but his willpower gives him enough strength to last an entire set, and then some. The easiest way to defeat him is to make him crouch low and run around a lot, make him come close to the net. Make his knees do a lot of work, then catch him off guard by firing a forehand to the back, just on the line. Baekhyun entertains challenges, yes, but his body can only handle so much.

"So yes, English. I really need help on that," Baekhyun repeats when he returns. He takes a good gulp of water then continues, "And stamina training. How the hell do I improve that?"

"By playing more matches. There's no other way."

Baekhyun breaks out into a smile. "So, you up for one set?"

Kyungsoo stops for a while, eyebrows furrowed, then slips into a smile when he shakes his head. "Don't give up on me too early, okay?" he calls out as he makes his way to the service court, then throws the balls at Baekhyun. "Show me your best serve!" he teases as Baekhyun positions himself, eyes fixed on the ball he's dribbling with his hand. Baekhyun doesn't look up, doesn't counter with a classic snide retort or a challenge of his own; instead, he tosses the ball into the air, straight up, and Kyungsoo doesn't even have to think twice how to receive the shot. His body acts on its own.

The match stretches to a tiebreak, and Kyungsoo wins by a slim margin, 27-25.

 

"Help, can't move. Gonna die."

Baekhyun's lies flat on his tummy as Chanyeol walks past him and to his locker, taking out a fresh change of clothes. "You're gonna die if you don't move," Chanyeol says over his shoulder, and Baekhyun wiggles a little, slowly getting up only to turn over and lie on his back.

"Move," Jongdae says, nudging Baekhyun's legs as he reaches for the bottle of water Kyungsoo is handing him. Baekhyun shakes his head, keeps his eyes closed. His hair sticks to his face; for the most part, he looks like he's going to pass out any moment, but Kyungsoo chokes it up to the poor lighting. White light after rigorous training isn't the most flattering on a worn-out player.

"I'll go first," Chanyeol announces. He disappears into the showers. Kyungsoo hums to himself when he hears the water hit the floor.

"So how's English coming along?" Jongdae asks, making space for himself beside Kyungsoo as he wiggles his butt a little.

Baekhyun snorts and frowns. "No progress," Kyungsoo replies for Baekhyun, and Baekhyun quickly bolts up to raise an eyebrow at him. " _Very little_ progress. He's moved on from Britney to 'N Sync."

"Not even Christina? Man…" Jongdae clicks his tongue, but the smile on his lips betrays him. "I'm so disappointed."

"Stop, stop. Your voice is making me dizzy," Baekhyun says, covering his ears as he draws his knees close to his chest. "I'm so drained, oh God… I feel like my limbs would give away anytime. 27-fucking-25 — I don't think I can ever go pro."

Kyungsoo reaches over and ruffles Baekhyun's hair. "Practice," he says, then adds, "If you didn't talk so much during matches then you'd be able to save at least a fourth of your energy so you can go for longer matches."

Jongdae raises a finger, lips parted as if searching for words, then sinks back into his previous position. "Yeah, you're right. I probably shouldn't talk too much during matches, as well."

"Especially you," Chanyeol says as he emerges from the showers, a towel wrapped around his hips. Kyungsoo gulps hard on impulse, and from the corner of his eye he can see Baekhyun giving Chanyeol a once-over. "With all your tennis analysis shit going on. It's like divulging your strategy to your opponent."

"I'll come back a changed man tomorrow," Jongdae announces before heading to the showers, towel slung over his shoulders. "Or maybe later, after I wash my sins away. I heard there's a shampoo for that now."

Baekhyun folds his arms in front of him and rests his head on his knees. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Kyungsoo draws his shoulders back, eyes closed as he tries to relieve the tension in his muscles. He opens his eyes just in time to see Chanyeol slipping into tennis shorts and a white shirt. The cloth hugs his body, the moisture from his shower making the shirt stick to his torso. The dip of Chanyeol's back is a figure Kyungsoo can only dream of — it comes with the height, and Chanyeol has always been marginally more attractive than he is.

"Great match back there," Chanyeol says after a while. Baekhyun tips over to his side, quickly regains balance Kyungsoo presses a hand to his arm. "A tie-breaker during a practice match — who even does that?"

Kyungsoo glances at Baekhyun for a while. When he doesn't earn a response, he turns to Chanyeol and says, "This guy here needed to work on his stamina. Told him there's no other way to work on that but to play longer matches."

"And there he is, asleep on the bench." Chanyeol chuckles and turns around, body now facing Kyungsoo. "You happy with the outcome?"

"I'm—" Feeling great, Kyungsoo can say. His form has been nothing but impeccable these past few matches. He's yet to perfect his backhand, but at least he isn't making the same mistake Baekhyun does when he twists his torso too much. "Good," Kyungsoo answers, instead. He stretches out his left arm, grabs at the air and balls his fist tight. "Jongdae says I've been playing better with my left hand. I don't know if I should believe him."

"You look more comfortable playing with your left hand," Chanyeol replies. He sits beside Kyungsoo, maintaining a good distance between them. Kyungsoo doesn't take offense — there's a fine line between a comforting pat on the shoulder and gross rubbing against each other after practice. Chanyeol is clean; Kyungsoo still reeks of sweat and practice. "Like, really, really comfortable."

"You think so?" Kyungsoo clenches and unclenches his fist. "It feels a bit weird."

Chanyeol wraps Kyungsoo's fist with his hand. The corners of Kyungsoo's lips tugs up on instinct. Muscle memory. "I know so."

Baekhyun falls to his side, head finding a comfortable fit on Kyungsoo's shoulder. Kyungsoo jerks a little but manages to control his body, goes for light laughter when Baekhyun grumbles with his eyes closed. Chanyeol laughs, hearty and loud, and Kyungsoo leans his head on Baekhyun's just slightly, enough for him to feel Baekhyun's breath on his neck.

 

 

"Get up, kid."

Baekhyun looks up, eyes still laden with sleep when as he pushes himself off the bench. Kyungsoo laughs a little at the sight. He walks over to his locker, drying his hair as he says, "It's your turn."

"Everyone's gone already?"

"Chanyeol and Jongdae have serious matters to attend to. Captain and vice-captain stuff," Kyungsoo replies. He turns around and finds Baekhyun pulling his shirt up, belly protruding a little as Baekhyun exhales. "Finalizing plans," he adds, and he follows the movement of Baekhyun's hands, up up _up_ until the shirt comes off with one last tug, revealing Baekhyun's pale skin.

Kyungsoo's eyes linger on Baekhyun's collarbones, then travel south, down to Baekhyun's belly button. "For the tournament. But we'll still be singles one and two," he rushes. Baekhyun's looking at him now. There's still a hint of fatigue in his eyes, but there's a peculiar smile on the curve of the lip. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. "Don't worry."

"Are you gonna wait for me?" Baekhyun asks. 

"I can wait for you."

Baekhyun pauses, craning his neck to look at Kyungsoo. "Personal English hagwon?" is all that Baekhyun says, and Kyungsoo feels his shoulders relax, feels his throat open up again. He nods in response and Baekhyun goes back to rummaging through his things, and Kyungsoo doesn't think about Baekhyun pulling his shirt up, doesn't think about the dip of his back and his hips, Baekhyun's skin glowing under the light of the locker room.

Baekhyun's figure disappears into an expanse of white when Baekhyun throws his shirt smack on Kyungsoo's face. He holds his breath, carefully peels the shirt off his skin and folds it neatly, setting it down beside him as he waits for Baekhyun to emerge from the showers, the sound of the rushing water drowning out the wild beating in his chest.

 

 

It's a fairly short walk from the school to Azabi, ten minutes if they're walking too fast, fifteen if they have the leisure of time. They're somewhere in between right now, and Kyungsoo shivers a little when the cool wind blows. Baekhyun casts him a quick glance before asking, "You want to eat bungeoppang even if you're freezing?"

"They have coffee there, too, you know," Kyungsoo mumbles. He wraps his arms around himself and Baekhyun laughs, shrill and light, just beside him. "Shut up. Now recite the second verse up until the second chorus."

"Will you buy me food if I do it right?" Baekhyun teases. He reaches over, pulling Kyungsoo close as he slides his arm around Kyungsoo's shoulder. "C'mere, stop pretending that you don't need warmth. You look stupid hugging yourself like that."

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. His bag bumps into Baekhyun's side, so he pushes it back until it hits his ass. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll buy you something. Just do those two parts."

Baekhyun grins at him. This is warmer. "Awesome!"

Baekhyun half-recites, half-sings the rest of the lyrics as they navigate through Daechi-dong. There's a smug grin on Baekhyun's lips when they stop just in front of the store, and Kyungsoo wonders briefly if they'd just been walking fast enough that he didn't feel the cold seeping through his clothes. "Good enough," he says, only faintly as if to tease, and Baekhyun scrunches his nose, narrows his eyes at him like he can weasel an apology from Kyungsoo when the best that face can do is scare an ant.

"Come on, give me some credit." Baekhyun tugs at Kyungsoo's sleeve. They take another stop just in front of the door. "Come on, come on, _come on—_ "

"You did well," Kyungsoo finally says, surrendering. He smiles, easy and relaxed, and pushes the door open. "I'll get us one bungeoppang and one cup of coffee."

He doesn't look over his shoulder, but he can hear the smile in Baekhyun's voice, more definitively when Baekhyun says, voice louder than the usual, "Cappuccino!" Baekhyun heads off to look for a seat, and Kyungsoo draws his wallet from his bag, head hung low as he tries to regain control of his facial muscles.

"Yes, cappuccino," he tells the cashier lady when she asks for his coffee order. The smile on his lips tears the corners of his mouth; it stings. "Just one cappuccino."

 

 

Chanyeol isn't exactly the most studious person, but he drives himself to study hard enough that he earns a rank 1 position in the batch. Jongdae's in the same rank, too, scoring even higher than Chanyeol, but then Jongdae has always been the smartest, the one who randomly spews out trivia about history or the latest cars or new music, how people came up with asphalt and, "Hey, have you guys seen the documentary _The History of Helvetica_? It's amazing. Totally explains why Helvetica's the superior choice."

"Don't diss on my lovely Calibri," Baekhyun retorts, clutching an imaginary manifestation of a font close to his chest. "Arial, though, you can completely express hatred for. I might even back you up."

Chanyeol raises a hand. "Without Arial, your fonts won't even exist."

"Focus, guys," Kyungsoo says, loud enough to make Chanyeol sink back in his seat and Baekhyun sit up properly. Jongdae adjusts his glasses and scoots closer to Chanyeol, flipping to the page they're supposed to be discussing. "Okay, literature. The Little Prince. You guys have read this, right?"

"No?" Chanyeol replies, earnest. He shoots Jongdae a look and Jongdae raises his hands in defense.

"I have, when I was younger," Baekhyun says. "Like, much, much younger. I think the boa constrictor part was pretty cool."

Kyungsoo snorts. "Awesome. At least someone has good taste in literature."

Baekhyun has a penchant for invading personal space, Kyungsoo concludes when Baekhyun presses too close as he tries to read the book over Kyungsoo's shoulder. Baekhyun leans his head against Kyungsoo's, sometimes even tucks his chin on Kyungsoo's shoulder, whispeing things in his ear, like, _Don't you think the rose was overdoing it? She can't just keep the prince hanging on a leash or something,_ _Taming? You mean leading someone on and leaving that person behind._ "Sometimes I wonder how we'd survive if we lived in Saint-Exupery's world," Baekhyun finally says out loud, and by this time Jongdae has dozed off on the other side of the table. Chanyeol's just being polite by staring at Kyungsoo silly with half-lidded eyes.

"Go, go, get some rest," Kyungsoo, reaching out briefly to guide Chanyeol's head down on the desk. Jongdae mumbles something about _weird sheep_ and nuzzles Chanyeol's hair. Leadership duties on top of their extracurricular activities wear them out more than they should, and Kyungsoo's generous with sleep, sparing Chanyeol a stern look when Chanyeol zones out halfway through a conversation.

"I'm glad I'm irresponsible," Baekhyun comments. His voice is considerably lower than the usual; maybe it's the travel from school to home that wears Baekhyun out, or the extended practices as they draw nearer to the tournament date. "Or at least not as responsible as these two. Heck, I can't even manage my own thoughts; how the hell am I supposed to think about other people?"

"Not that I need to know," Kyungsoo mumbles. Baekhyun transfers weight to his chin, pressing even closer to Kyungsoo. If Kyungsoo so much as tilts his head to the side, Baekhyun's face will be flush against his. It's not a risk he should be taking. He shrugs his shoulders and the weight on the right side eases. His right arm is numb; he hopes it's not the injury talking.

"I wanted you to know, anyway," Baekhyun says after a while. "But I can take care of myself just fine on most days. Just… not at all the time."

Kyungsoo chuckles. "Well, thank you for the trivia." He closes the book, then turns to his side to face Baekhyun. "Have you read his other books?"

Baekhyun's eyes light up, crinkling at the corners. His smile is boxy and has these weird edges, but it looks natural enough to be considered a relaxed smile. His shoulders are slumped, though — weird form, poor footwork, something Kyungsoo cannot quite pinpoint but knows is _wrong._ "I thought Night Flight was depressing," Baekhyun replies. He throws his head back, exposing the column of his neck. Kyungsoo tries his hardest not to reach out.

"Really depressing."

"Really, _really_ depressing."

"So is your face. When you're—" Baekhyun makes clawing motions at the space just a few inches from his face. "Wearing that look. Makes you look sad and depressed."

Kyungsoo shakes his head. "Let's move on to Britney."

Baekhyun stares for a while, eyebrows slightly furrowed, then bounces back with a new light in his eyes. " _Lucky_ is still my jam," Baekhyun mentions, then slips into a fit of laughter, light and easy, but loud enough to fill Kyungsoo's ears, senses, reaching the back of his mind. Perfect form and footwork. An easy forehand winner down the line. 

 

 

It's a rainy spring day in Daechi-dong when Baekhyun asks for another long match. Baekhyun is testing out his improved backhand form now, consciously dragging his right foot all the way to the left side. "I'm liking the added power," Baekhyun comments, chokes somewhere along the way when rain catches on his lips.

"We better head inside now!" Kyungsoo calls out from the other side of the court. Baekhyun simply laughs, the sound echoing in the now empty court. It's a weekend, and Chanyeol and Jongdae spend most Saturdays holed in their homes or hagwon, going through lectures and re-reading notes; there's the midnight for that, Kyungsoo thinks. It's when his mind is free from unwanted thoughts.

"This is a test!" Baekhyun replies. His hands are on his hips. Kyungsoo doesn't have to squint hard to see the smile on Baekhyun's lips. "Are you going to back down now? _Come on…_ "

It's taken Kyungsoo nearly two years to grow accustomed to Chanyeol's loud laughter and Jongdae's regular, drawn out touches, but Baekhyun makes getting used to companionship sound all too easy. It hasn't been half a year and yet Baekhyun already knows the right words to use to earn more than the casual smile or shrug from Kyungsoo,kows the right time to raise an eyebrow at Kyungsoo instead of hitting him on the arm to drive a point across. Kyungsoo likes to think himself an unpredictable enough man, but Baekhyun's good at this — breaking people down into pieces he can eat up, digest more easily. Baekhyun's got him on a leash loose enough for him to be able to still wander off, but one light tug and he's reeled back in.

"Is that a challenge?" Kyungsoo asks. Maybe Baekhyun is snorting; the rain drowns it out.

"No. This is a practice match." Baekhyun reaches for one of the balls on the monoblock nearby. He dribbles it with his left hand, slow and easy. His racket looks as if it might slip off anytime; when Kyungsoo said _loosen your grip,_ he didn't mean this.

"First to get to three games." Kyungsoo crouches low to tighten the knot of his rubber shoes. "If I win, we're going inside _right away_."

"But the weather's great here outside!"

Hard court is easily the best surface to play in when it's raining, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Baekhyun's form is worse than ever, and he struggles with reaching for the shots dropping just beyond the net more than the usual. Kyungsoo takes the slippery surface as an opportunity to slide, but sometimes he goes too fast and, by the time he realizes that he's made a mistake, he's already crashing into the net, face-first. Baekhyun greets him with a fit of giggles and an outstretched hand.

"Stop laughing," Kyungsoo grumbles as he reaches up, taking Baekhyun's offer for help. He lets his fingers linger. "You're the one who dragged me out here just so we could practice your form."

"And you gave in," Baekhyun singsongs. He pulls at Kyungsoo's hand lightly, and Kyungsoo tugs even harder, sending Baekhyun down on the ground. "What the _fuck?_ "

"I haven't won yet, but it's impossible to play in this weather." Kyungsoo nudges the now-fallen Baekhyun beside him whose face is pressed flat against his thigh. "Hey, kid, get up."

Baekhyun pushes himself up with shaky arms and looks at Kyungsoo — just looks at him — eyebrows furrowed slightly. This can go two ways — Baekhyun can say _you've got to be fucking kidding me_ and tease him about being weak and maybe let slip a totally unnecessary comment about his injury. Baekhyun can just shrug and walk back to the other side of the court before saying _you get up!_ Baekhyun does neither. Instead, he just sits there, legs crossed, knees bumping into Kyungsoo's. The rain all around them makes spring unbearably cold, and maybe they should be heading back inside where it's warmer. It's safer there, with the four walls of the room shielding them from the cold and the rest of the world, but Baekhyun's a risk-taker, a daredevil. He pushes and pushes until there's no other place to go but down.

"Fuck, it's cold here." Baekhyun hugs his racket close to him, like it can ever keep him warm. Kyungsoo snorts.

"Took you too long to realize that."

Baekhyun glances at him again, quicker this time, and reaches over to ruffle his hair. Baekhyun's hand falls on his left shoulder, and Baekhyun pulls him close, close enough that he can feel the little warmth left in Baekhyun's side through the press of their bodies, close enough that he can see the raindrops catching on Baekhyun's eyelashes. He runs a thumb there, wipes it off, and Baekhyun winces, closes his eyes until Kyungsoo taps his cheek lightly.

"Come on, let's go inside," Kyungsoo says, but Baekhyun doesn't budge. Instead, he tightens his grip on Kyungsoo's arm, and Kyungsoo keeps still, racket drenched in his left hand, his right balled in a fist. His knuckles graze the skin of Baekhyun's ankle.

 

 

The agreement is to wrap up practice before six in the evening so that they'll have time to study, but the weather only clears up at quarter 'til five. "Come on, just one set," Baekhyun pleads, and Kyungsoo has neither the strength nor the heart to turn him down.

"Care to show me that serve again?" Baekhyun says, voice louder than the usual. There must still be the thrum of the downpour in his ears. Kyungsoo sticks his tongue out and dribbles the ball with his right hand, preparing to serve.

Kyungsoo can see the change in Baekhyun's form more definitively when Baekhyun receives the deep forehands Kyungsoo aims at the corners. There's more power in each shot, even if Baekhyun only does the light flick of the wrist when returning some balls, and Baekhyun isn't even a power player — he's a good balance of strength and tactic, but today the mind play is stronger, a force to be reckoned with. Baekhyun makes stuttered steps to the front, and Kyungsoo goes for a backhand down the line instead of a shot to Baekhyun's own backhand; he can't take risks.

"Weak," Baekhyun comments as he picks the ball up. "You can't hesitate when hitting balls. At least try to fake it; you're too obvious."

"I'm not obvious," Kyungsoo retorts. He hits the back of his rubber shoes with this racket. "And this is a practice match; whatever I screw up here, I make up for when I go into a real match."

"Whatever." Baekhyun shrugs. He hands Kyungsoo the ball and, before walking back to his side of the court, says, "Try harder."

They're at 6-5 now and Kyungsoo has the chance to serve it out to earn a win, but it won't be half as fun if he ends things early. Victory isn't quick matches won over tired teammates; victory is winning a long rally by firing a well-timed trick shot in an opponent's moment of surrender. His penchant for playing fair has cost him a couple of matches, yes, and Baekhyun is a valuable asset to the team that he's not willing to lose to his pride. He won't push this time but he won't pull, either. "Whatever," he says, copying Baekhyun, and aims four kick serves to the other side of the court, serving out the game to win the match 7-5.

"That's not the serve," Baekhyun mumbles when they meet at the net. Kyungsoo simply shrugs. He means to drop his hand to his side, but Baekhyun doesn't let go, not even as they make their way back to the lockers, rackets dripping wet, tucked beneath their arms. Baekhyun's skin is warm; his eyes, piercing cold. Kyungsoo takes in the contrast and files this image of Baekhyun at the back of his mind under a category for all things Baekhyun — he can't decipher this look, not yet, but it _does_ send a warm shot of pain through his nerves, the rest of his body.

 

 

"I see you and Baekhyun are getting…" Chanyeol drums his fingers on the table for a while before leaning forward, looking around his for an audience. The dramatic pause kills Kyungsoo, but he keeps his hands to himself, doesn't slap Chanyeol on the arm when Chanyeol goes on to say, "... chummy."

"So?" He busies himself with setting up the table, taking two plates from the dish rack. Chanyeol normally comes over on Sundays, when his mother is out meeting her friends, and there's always a snack to be welcomed whenever Chanyeol pays a visit. Today, it's tteokbokki. _Umma made it,_ he remembers Chanyeol saying. He lays each piece on the bowl carefully. Chanyeol's ransacking his fridge now for some yellow radish.

"So, it's good for the team." Chanyeol takes out a few bottles, and Kyungsoo slaps his hand, taking over the search party. "I mean, good chemistry on court is always nice to have, yeah?"

"If you're telling me to play doubles again, I'll have to kick you out of my house." Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder, lips drawn to a thin, thin line. "I'm sorry, Yeol. I'm never playing doubles again. I told you before, right? I'll never—"

"Be able to share the same side of the court with anyone other than Jihoon," Chanyeol finishes. "Yeah, I get it, but I haven't seen tennis chemistry like this since—"

"Since?"

Chanyeol's face is unreadable, calm and still. He's drumming his fingers on his thigh. Kyungsoo hasn't moved from where he is, still crouched low, and the yellow radish peeks from behind a couple of food containers. It's within reach now, but there's a thin film of _something,_ something Kyungsoo can't quite put his finger on that's drowning out the tiny sounds they're making.

"Since Zitao and Lu Han-hyung teamed up. Since Jongin played alongside Sehun for the very first time — still their best match, in my opinion," Chanyeol finally says. He pokes at a piece of tteok tentatively and shoots a glance at Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo slowly gets up. His knees ache. "Since your last match with Jihoon."

Kyungsoo can feel the lump of Chanyeol's words lodge itself in his throat. "Cut this up," he says, surrendering the yellow radish to Chanyeol. He means to ask for a favor, but it comes out as an order, instead. Chanyeol doesn't say anything else, merely picks up the vegetable and navigates through the kitchen, pulling out the chopping board, a knife, and a plate he can put the sliced pieces on.

"When are you going to me about what happened with Jihoon?" Chanyeol asks after a while, once he's sitting opposite Kyungsoo again.

Kyungsoo doesn't look up and keeps his eyes fixed on the bright red liquid. "Never," he says, and he doesn't meet Chanyeol in the eye until he takes a piece of tteok. Chanyeol's stare burns the back of his eyelids more than the gochujang does.

 

 

Chanyeol picks him up from his classroom before heading to the courts, Jongdae in tow. "I actually just have to make sure Jongdae makes it to the courts without me," Chanyeol tells Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo holds Jongdae by the waist, his palm secure on Jongdae's left hip even as Jongdae retailiates by flailing his arms around.

"I can take care of myself," Jongdae grumbles. Chanyeol cards his fingers through Jongdae's hair, and Kyungsoo just watches, half-amused and half-wondering what had happened the whole time he wasn't around.

Kyungsoo adjusts Jongdae's arm around his shoulder for a better hold. "Come on, let me take care of you."

Jongdae laughs a little. His voice comes out scratchy. He won't be able to call out match ups for the practice matches later; Jongdae will hate that, not getting to use his voice. He hates it when things are taken away from him.

"Says the guy who wouldn't even let us visit him when he was sick," Jongdae teases.

"That was three years ago— I fell off a bike, big deal. It was a tiny scratch!"

"And I'm just running low on sleep." Jongdae shrugs his shoulders, but Kyungsoo knows more than to give in. "Come on, let me go. Kyungsoo, let me—"

"Seems like Kyungsoo has issues with letting people go, huh?" comes Baekhyun's voice from a few feet away. Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder, and Baekhyun greets him with a bright smile. He's carrying more books with him than the usual, and Kyungsoo eyes the pile of books with great interest. "Studying some chapters in advance. I'll need to go through some extra readings if I want to get into SKY."

"Isn't it too late for that?" Jongdae comments, and Kyungsoo pinches him lightly in his side.

The walk to the courts takes no more than ten minutes, but Jongdae pressing his weight down on Kyungsoo makes the trip seem much longer. "Which?" Kyungsoo asks Baekhyun when the latter slides beside him, opposite Jongdae.

"KU? Yonsei? I don't know yet," Baekhyun replies. He scrunches his nose. "You?"

Kyungsoo hasn't ironed out the details yet, but he plans to get into SKY with an athletic scholarship. Play for the team, even, if time permits. He wants to take up a Liberal Arts course, and while balancing studies and extracurricular activities in university seems more daunting than it should be, the practice he's had in high school helps ease the anxiety somehow.

"Yonsei, probably." Jongdae has become silent next to him. He briefly wonders if Jongdae is in pain or has finally accepted the fact that he needs help. "I can't see myself anywhere else."

"Big words," Jongdae and Baekhyun chime simultaneously. Together, they produce the most shrill, the loudest laughter. This is a sound Kyungsoo can get used to, he thinks, even as the sound of balls bouncing on the court soon filsl his ears.

 

 

Chanyeol meets them in court with a clipboard propped under his arm. He rounds everyone up and hands the clipboard over to a Jongdae who looks slightly more alive now, the corners of his lips curled up just slightly.

"The coach is sick and he won't be around for a while, probably three days, five," Chanyeol says in his most authoritative, least friendly voice. "Until then, I will be your coach."

"Take me to your leader," Baekhyun whispers, and Kyungsoo nudges him with his elbow faster than Baekhyun can let a giggle slip from his lips.

Chanyeol's a better captain than he is a player. He definitely has the skill and his ball placement is a thing of beauty, but his real talent is in manipulating people, convincing them to do something even if they mean to do another. The freshmen have long calmed down after being told to wait for their turn, and it takes no more than a couple of sentences for Chanyeol to make Zitao, Sehun, and Jongin handle the freshmen and make them teach the freshmen some advanced trick shots. "How does he _do it?_ " Baekhyun asks, leaning closer to whisper. "I've never seen anyone talk Sehun into doing something without some sort of reward so easily."

"That's how he wins his matches, didn't you know?" Jongdae replies. He twirls the racket in his hand, by the throat, eyes trained on Chanyeol. Chanyeol's talking to one of the freshmen now, someone Jongin has seen playing in the open courts and has seen potential in. "You're gonna pass me the ball, right? You won't aim the forehand at the corner, right?" Jongdae's voice has dropped to a whisper now, and he has morphed his tone into one that can be used for horror movies. Kyungsoo's torn between laughing and punching Jondgdae in the face. "Sometimes I see him mumbling before his opponent hits the ball. _He has powers—_ "

Baekhyun topples over, falling on his knees. Jongdae's visibly amused. "It was funny the first few seconds," Kyungsoo says when Jongdae looks up at him, searching for validation. "And the first few times you pulled the same shit on Chanyeol. Yes, I still remember—"

"And you didn't remember this face at once?" Baekhyun looks at him, like he's affronted and insulted, but the smile on his lips betrays him. "Selective memory. I'm hurt."

Jongdae cackles. "Byun Baekhyun has feelings?"

Baekhyun still hasn't averted his gaze from Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo remembers the night in the showers, Baekhyun's collarbones, the dip of his back. He remembers the need for _someone_ in the undertone of Baekhyun's voice when he said, half-asleep more than awake, _"Are you gonna wait for me?"_

"Sure, I do," Baekhyun replies. He grins at Kyungsoo for a while, then at Jongdae. "I'm sensitive. Fragile. Please handle me with care."

"I'll handle you with care if you get your asses on the courts," Chanyeol says now, a towering figure behind them. Chanyeol's hand is warm and soothing on the small of Kyungsoo's back. "Off to practice, now, Come on."

Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder, waiting for Chanyeol to fall into step with him, but it's Baekhyun who matches his pace, Baekhyun who slips right beside him as they walk to the courts. "Wanna practice your backhand on me?" Baekhyun asks, and Kyungsoo doesn't choke when Baekhyun moves closer, their hands bumping with each forward step.

"Sure," Kyungsoo says. He locks his arms behind him and cracks his neck as he meets Baekhyun in the eye. "Sounds good to me."

 

 

They do no more than a few easy games to practice their swings and services. Kyungsoo hasn't pulled an American Twist in a while, focusing on cleaning up his flat serves, so he looks around for an audience before assuming his serving position. It's not that he doesn't want to share; he wants to polish it first, make it perfect so that when people see it, when it hits the opponent on the other side of the net, it will leave an impact worth more than a point or a game or an entire match. There is no room for error in a sport as cutthroat as tennis, no time to relax and give himself away. Tennis is more of a mind game than running around with your legs and swinging your arms, hoping to hit a good enough shot that your opponent won't be able to return. Tennis is a complete mindfuck.

"I'm really liking your form these days," comes Chanyeol's voice from behind. Kyungsoo quickly drops the ball to his side, collecting himself when he picks it up with his racket. The steady bounce of the ball off the floor is a soothing sound. "The best I've seen since—"

"Since we were twelve?" Kyungsoo catches the ball with his right hand, then serves it with a slice. It passes just above the net, and Kyungsoo grins when he sees it rolling to the back of the court. "Has it been that long?"

Chanyeol walks to the other side of the court. His grip on his racket is tight — Kyungsoo doesn't need to squint hard to see the veins of Chanyeol's hand glowering at him. "Apparently, you've know Baekhyun longer than that."

"Only casually, though. I mean, I only see him in tournaments. We play against each other." Kyungsoo hits the back of his rubber shoes with his racket — once, twice, until he can easily slide to the right again. "That's about it."

"Is it?"

Kyungsoo snorts. "You're thinking too much. Come on, just give me a good serve."

He isn't lying to Chanyeol when he says he doesn't know Baekhyun beyond a handshake or the standard congratulations when they meet at the net. Baekhyun is skilled enough that the movement of his body, every twist of the torso and flick of the wrist is engraved in Kyungsoo's mind. Kyungsoo remembers movement, not still things — Baekhyun's marginally better footwork when he moves from the baseline to the net, the way he twirls the racket in his hand, the droplets of water running down the expanse of Baekhyun's chest, or the way Baekhyun had pulled him close as they shared warmth in the rain. Movement, motion, the steady bounce of a ball on the court. Baekhyun, ever listless, never to be tied down.

Chanyeol holds the ball in front of him, then tosses the ball in the air.

He remembers Chanyeol's movements, too, more distinctly than those Baekhyun makes. Chanyeol is all large, exaggerated gestures and loud laughter, a big, warm hand on the small of the back, slow rubbing of the thumb on an exposed part of the skin. But Chanyeol stills from time to time, slumped against the wall, eyes closed as he composes himself after a difficult loss. And Kyungsoo tries to set things back in motion, crouches low to reach out and brush the beads of tears at the corners of Chanyeol's eyes as he tries so hard to hold his tears back.

"Why do you even keep bringing that up?"

Chanyeol aims a forehand right down the line. A small pump of the fist, then, "Because he seems to look up to you. A lot. Like you've changed his life or something." Chanyeol snorts and laughs a little. "Ew."

"Really?" A nice, clean slice serve, one that Kyungsoo just watches speed past him.

" _Really,_ " is all that Chanyeol says, because they should be focusing on the match. Kyungsoo bends his knees, preparing to receive the next serve. If he lets his guard down, Chanyeol will power his way through this game with fast serves.

"He knows you more than you think," Chanyeol says after the match, when they meet at the net. Chanyeol leans on the pole as he catches his breath, and Kyungsoo stands opposite him, hands on his hips, racket propped under his arm. "Watches your movement, your game. I don't know what you've done to him, Kyungsoo, and it sure looks like you have no idea either, but whatever it is, it has impacted him a lot."

Kyungsoo looks up and into Chanyeol's eyes, looking for something — answers, a joke beneath the thick layer of seriousness, a Chanyeol who knows nothing about him and isn't warning him like Baekhyun coming too close is the safest thing. "It's the footwork," Kyungsoo simply answers. He averts his gaze, searches for Baekhyun in the throng of people in the other courts. Baekhyun's talking to Jongin, adjusting Jongin's grip on his racket. His body is saying, _this is how you do a nice, clean kick serve;_ the movement of his lips, _you can't let the team down, Jonginnie. You don't want to do that, right?_ "It must be the footwork, because he's been feeling more power in his shots since he fixed that issue. It has to be the footwork."

"If that's what you say," Chanyeol replies, surrendering. He rests a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder before standing up straight, hand falling to his sides. "I'll go clean up and send the little ones home. Are you staying behind?"

"Yeah, I think so. One more round, then I'll head straight home." Kyungsoo scrunches his nose. "Lots of homework to do."

"Don't stay out too late," Chanyeol calls out before turning on his heel. Baekhyun turns around, and from this distance, with meters of space between them, Kyungsoo can convince himself that Baekhyun isn't looking and waving at him.

He practices his backswing. The movement is more relaxed, natural. He spins the racket in his wrist by the throat as he walks to the crowd, making his way to Jongdae. He could use more practice — just a bit more.

 

 

Kyungsoo is the last man standing on the courts. He'd begged off from an ice cream escapade earlier, telling Chanyeol he had to practice his backhand more. "Gotta perfect the backhand drive," he'd said, and Jongdae had just shrugged and walked ahead of Chanyeol.

Testing out his backhand with the wall as a practice buddy is hardly as exciting as hitting balls with a real human being moving opposite you, running around and chasing the shots, but solitude is good, too, sometimes. Silence helps him think, recalibrate. He shuts his eyes tight before lifting himself off of leaning on the pole of the net and walks to the locker room. His clothes stick to him, and it's the single, most annoying feeling in the world after a long day at practice.

The lights are still turned on, so he takes a peek inside before entering. He expects emptiness, but instead he sees Baekhyun with his back against the lockers, head thrown back, lips parted slightly, one of the freshmen on his knees with Baekhyun's dick between his lips.

Kyungsoo swallows every sound struggling to break free from his silence. He grips the frame of the door tight.

Baekhyun makes the strangest, most entrancing sounds as the freshman bobs his head, drawing a long suck and pulling out completely before dipping his mouth back in, taking Baekhyun whole in one breath. Baekhyun's fingers, long and slender, are entangled in the boy's hair. He can see the strain in Baekhyun's muscles, the way he clenches his fists as the boy sucks rather enthusiastically on his cock. Kyungsoo knows he isn't supposed to feel anything, but his chest is tight and heavy, and his lips feel so dry, and the tips of his fingers are cold. His dick feels so heavy between his legs, and his tennis shorts are flimsy and the sort of material that would look good sliding off his legs if Baekhyun pulled them down with his teeth and—

"Shit—" Kyungsoo mumbles, barely above a whisper. Baekhyun bucks his hips. Kyungsoo outlines Baekhyun's figure with his eyes, gaze lingering on Baekhyun's neck, the dip of his back, the toned legs. The boy's leaving scratch marks on Baekhyun's pale skin, and those will sting, and those will burn a bright red and Baekhyun will regret wearing tight tennis shorts tomorrow, but Baekhyun asks for more, pushing the boy's head down so hard the that boy gasps before getting back to work, sucking, long and inexorable.

Kyungsoo draws in one shaky breath. His nails claw at the door, and Baekhyun's gaze shifts to him, sharp and heady.

Baekhyun licks his lips, hooks a leg around the figure of the boy to draw him closer. "More," Baekhyun groans, and the boy keeps at it, sucks harder, one hand moving to cup Baekhyun's ass. Baekhyun doesn't tear his gaze from Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo feels a struggle much harder than before, his blood rushing both up to his face and down to his cock, his own erection so visible in his shorts.

Baekhyun comes with a strangled cry, sliding down the lockers just a bit as he catches his breath. His eyes are half-masked, and yet Baekhyun's gaze still leaves Kyungsoo with cuts all over, a swelling pain in his abdomen. "W-what are you doing," Kyungsoo finally says when he finds his voice again, and the freshman quickly scrambles to his feet.

Kyungsoo doesn't mean to look, but the boy is only half-hard now — Baekhyun fucked him first, and the boy just returned the favor. _Fuck._

Baekhyun cups the face of the boy before ruffling his hair. "Run along, now," he whispers, and the boy quickly gets dressed, speeds past Kyungsoo on his way out of the locker room.

"I said," Kyungsoo says now, voice louder, more stable. He can feel his legs again, but his hands are still numb. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Baekhyun wipes the spit at the corners of his mouth with his thumb and pays no heed to Kyungsoo's words, pulling his shorts up and locking his arms behind his back as he stretches. "It was a tough day. I had to release some stress," Baekhyun answers after a while, as he pulls his shirt back on. _You're supposed to be heading to the showers to wash away your sins,_ a voice at the back of Kyungsoo's mind says. Half of him feels more comfortable when Baekhyun faces him, now fully dressed; the other half, oddly disappointed. "Don't you do that, too, sometimes? Get off?"

"Not—" Kyungsoo can feel something burning at the back of this throat. "Not that way. I'm not— Baekhyun, you're—"

"Just like you," Baekhyun finishes. Baekhyun's laughing; Kyungsoo doesn't get it, what's funny about the whole conversation. Baekhyun looks fucking pretty with the light blush on his cheeks and his bangs stuck to his forehead. It's not funny; it's disconcerting.

"I'm not like you. Baekhyun, I'm not—"

"You're not gay?" Baekhyun snorts. "You can't lie to me, Kyungsoo. You can lie to the coach, to Jongdae, or even to Chanyeol, but I know it when I see it. And what I see in you is a person who's afraid of so many things that he's even afraid of being himself."

Kyungsoo balls his fists. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Then why are you shaking?"

_I'm mad,_ Kyungsoo wants to say. There's the warm thrum of arousal between his legs and he's weak in the knees and Baekhyun's looking at him with eyes that can cut through diamonds. Baekhyun's cutting him open without preamble, slicing him up into pieces. He can feel a sharp pain in his right arm. "I'm mad," he finally confesses. "I'm disappointed. I'm—"

"Disappointed in yourself?" The look on Baekhyun's face is indiscernible. Kyungsoo wonders if it's just a mix of fatigue and shock, or something he can't figure out completely. It's unsettling. "I would be, too, if I kept trying to make things happen with Chanyeol but I had to shoot him down everytime he expressed interest in me, yeah—"

"Don't bring Chanyeol into this."

"I didn't." Baekhyun scoffs. "You did."

Kyungsoo clenches his fists, nails digging into his skin. His hands have long gone numb from the cold, but there's a sharp pain in his chest that cuts like a fucking knife. "Get out," Kyungsoo simply says, voice as steady as it can be, but Baekhyun chuckles and he loses it completely. "I said, get out!"

He doesn't grab Baekhyun by the wrist when Baekhyun walks past him, doesn't look over his shoulder, but he does lock himself up in the locker room, knees hugged close to his chest as he tries to even out his breathing, to calm down the voices in his head, to ease the pain in his chest.

 

 

He lets the cold water of the shower cascade down his chest, the expanse of his back, and he doesn't think about Baekhyun throwing his head back as the boy sucks on his dick, doesn't think of Baekhyun bucking his hips, fucking the boy so hard on the face, doesn't thinking of Baekhyun's piercing gaze as he comes inside the boy's mouth and not in Kyungsoo's hand.

Kyungsoo gives his cock one last jerk and he comes with a muffled cry. He doesn't move, doesn't open his eyes, letting the rush of the water drown out Baekhyun's soft _ah's_ still reverberating in his ears.


	2. Chapter 2

**( tiebreak )**

Kyungsoo wakes up with a tiny jerk of the body and the press of his pencil and eraser warm on his cheek. The clock reads _5 a.m.,_ and he stands from his seat, knees still weak. Everything is a haze, and it's not even because of the bangs draped over his eyes. It certainly isn't his unfinished reviewer, either.

The image of Baekhyun's piercing stare flashes before his eyes and he feels a surge of warmth throughout his body. Too quick, like taking a punch to the gut. He opens his eyes wide, lungs suddenly filled with too much air. He takes quick breaths; the scenes from last night are much too clear in his mind.

He makes his way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. His mother's already preparing breakfast — the usual rice and seaweed soup. If Kyungsoo's not feeling lazy, he'll look for kimchi in the fridge or the reheatable tteokbokki. "Tea?" his mother offers, and he manages a small smile before heading straight to the bathroom to rinse off the remnants of last night from his face.

— the curve of the back, the column of Baekhyun's neck, Baekhyun thrusting and thrusting and thrusting into the boy's mouth. The tiny sounds Baekhyun made —

He feels a sizzling heat his roll down his stomach. His reflection in the mirror stares at him like a hungover minor, laughing at him for his bad decisions. "Shut up," he says to no one in particular. His eyes are still locked onto the reflection, though, like a force drawing him in, shoving a truth in his face.

"Wake up, Kyungsoo. Get yourself together," he tells himself. He splashes water on his face, purposely splashing hard so the water pierces his eyes. His vision is clouded. He can see better through the fog in his eyes — he's not ready to go to school, not ready to face Baekhyun. Not ready to face himself in the mirror with Baekhyun just beside him, reminding him of a thought he'd pushed to the very back of his mind.

"Don't choke," he says to his reflection one last time before getting out and shutting the door behind him. When his mother addresses him with a warm smile, he returns it. It's an easy enough gesture that doesn't require thinking or processing, all muscle memory and no logic. Something Kyungsoo can do without debating with himself halfway through if he's doing the right thing.

There's a sinking feeling in his stomach everytime he recalls Baekhyun's parted lips as he orgasmed, recalls Baekhyun's gaze fixed on him. He almost throws up in his soup, but the gentle smile on his mother's lips gets him through breakfast.

"Can I skip school today?" he asks his mother, and she just laughs at him like it's the funniest joke she has heard him crack in a while. It isn't — it's a serious question, a matter of importance, a way to solve the sinking feeling in his stomach. He shrugs when she doesn't answer and sips the rest of his seaweed soup.

There are lessons to be studied. There's a match to be won.

 

 

There's a dull ache in Kyungsoo's temples when he greets Jongdae with a smile. "Don't say it — I know I look awful," he mumbles even before Jongdae can ease the furrow of his eyebrows. "Didn't sleep well. Had to catch up on lectures. Studied 'til 4 a.m.. Stayed behind to practice."

The last one leaves something lodged in his throat, pushing down all the air fighting to claw up and out. He keeps his eyes open, fixed on the patch of color on Jongdae's bag. He'd taken medicine earlier in the hope of feeling less of a zombie than he already was, but it seemed that he needed a cure not known to humans.

Jongdae gives him a long look. He chuckles. "I wasn't going to ask," he says, then lays a palm flat on Kyungsoo's shoulder for a while.

Kyungsoo looks at Jongdae's hand, looks up to meet Jongdae in the eye. He waves off the thought of shrugging off the sliver of comfort. Jongdae squeezes his shoulder lightly, then ushers him forward.

The heavy feeling in his chest lightens considerably at the sound of balls bouncing off the court. He doesn't fight the light upward tug on his lips, then slowly weasels out of Jongdae's one-armed hug. "I'll go warm up," he calls out, looking over his shoulders, and he makes his way to the court farthest from the big group, taking his racket out of the bag once he settles in.

A few dribbles of the ball and he starts his practice, tossing the ball up into the air. He slips into a familiar skin, a familiar pair of shoes. He swings his racket from the left to the right, grinning when he lands a good shot on the service court. A nice, clean kick serve.

"Didn't think I'd see that again," a familiar voice says. Kyungsoo doesn't have to turn his head — Baekhyun's well within his field of vision, the confidence in the way his spine snaps straight as he walks making him stand out. "How are you?" Baekhyun asks. If Kyungsoo hadn't flushed out every lilt of Baekhyun's voice from his system earlier, he'd hear the concern through the collective bouncing of the balls.

"You have the nerve to show up," Kyungsoo replies. He tosses another ball, hits it with a nice slice. His serve's a bit off — it should have hit the space a few inches to the right.

"I'm more responsible than you give me credit for, you know."

Kyungsoo scoffs. "Yeah, whatever." He walks close to the net, picking up three more balls. The smoothest goes first, and he slips the other two in his spandex. "Too responsible, even. Did you really have to take care of that kid? He seemed pretty capable."

Baekhyun heads to the other side of the court. "And you really won't let it go."

Kyungsoo's grip on the ball is tight; on his racket, even tighter. There's a sharp pain in his right arm, and it reaches his neck. He winces at the feeling. The pain has been haunting him more recently, when he hits heavier balls. There really shouldn't be much strain on his right arm since he hasn't been using it at all, but controlling the direction of his ball toss adds a bit of pressure to the shoulder.

It's not even his shoulder that should be hurting.

"You weren't supposed to be there, Baekhyun," he says now, voice fainter than it had been earlier. Baekhyun moves closer to the net. "You were supposed to be home, or maybe in the showers, not with— That kid? That kid had a lot of potential. But now that you've ruined him—"

"You talk as if being gay is a disease." Baekhyun snorts. "You like doing this, don't you? Torturing yourself, making yourself miserable?"

 _You don't know what I've been through,_ he wants to say. Nobody knows. No one's aware of Kyungsoo's struggles, how he has to push himself harder than before, how it still feels out of place to be playing with a hand that he'd long stopped using, how all those nights in Germany trying to flush out memories of Jihoon had been some of his worst nightmares. "Stop accusing me of being— I'm not like you, Baekhyun. I have goals, and banging a guy isn't one of them—"

Baekhyun's left eye twitches. "Well _fuck you,_ Do Kyungsoo. Defeat me in a match, _then_ you can diss on me being honest with myself."

Kyungsoo scoffs. So self-assured. He looks at Baekhyun before turning on his heel to head to the baseline. "Prepare your fragile heart, then," he calls out to Baekhyun over his shoulder, and he feels pain shooting up his arm again — the left one, this time.

He takes a deep breath and bends his knees. The image of Baekhyun sliding down the lockers flashes before his eyes. Baekhyun aims an easy flat serve that Kyungsoo so narrowly misses returning properly, and all Kyungsoo can think of is Baekhyun's heady gaze, the one that had fastened him on his spot as Baekhyun came at the back of the freshman's throat, as Baekhyun pulled away with a smile — easy, confident, bearing no regrets.

 

 

"That's got to be your worst performance _ever._ "

Kyungsoo simply rolls his eyes as he meets Baekhyun at the net and waves off Baekhyun's outstretched hand. "I'm just tired," he replies, walking to benches. Baekhyun bounced back from being down by 3 games, 1-4, and hadn't given Kyungsoo any opportunity to break back. Baekhyun's form was perfect then — proper backhand stance, right footwork as he moved from one shot to the next, the pronation as he hit the last serve with an easy slice sealing the deal. 40-0 — game, set, and match.

"You've got the stamina of an eight-year-old," Baekhyun says, voice faint behind him. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, quickening his pace. He can see Chanyeol and Jongdae's figures in the distance. A few more games to go through, one match to be won.

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder and he quickly shrugs it off. His feet stay rooted on the spot, though — between courts two and three, as some of the freshmen who are playing change sides. "Change that: you're acting like a kid. What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?"

"There is _nothing_ wrong with me," Kyungsoo says through gritted teeth. "You— you're the one who's got something wrong going on. Fix that thing of yours, Baekhyun. And get your facts straight."

"Always choking on an important point." Baekhyun shakes his head, the faintest smile surfacing on his lips. "I'm still working on that backhand stance. Conscious effort."

Kyungsoo leans back for a while, like the small change is distance will make things easier to digest. Breathing space has always been an issue with Baekhyun, and Baekhyun is a rule-breaker, a risk-taker. Baekhyun looks up at him like he means to ask, _can you run that stance by me again?_ or _can you teach me how to do that backhand drive?_ Kyungsoo stares at the fingers wound tightly around his wrist, stares at the racket propped under Baekhyun's arm, eyes traveling up until they rest on Baekhyun's collarbones.

"Looked fine earlier," Kyungsoo mumbles. He shakes off Baekhyun's grip with one motion, and Baekhyun does him the favor of letting his hand fall to his side. "Toss the ball slightly to the left if you want a better kick serve."

A smile lights the corners of Baekhyun's lips. "I'll give that a shot."

 

 

The start of the tournament comes sooner than expected. Chanyeol's more listless than ever, doing his rounds and giving people a pep talk. Jongdae hovers from time to time, giving the occasional pat on the back or the sidetracker smile. "He's excited," Jongdae mumbles in Kyungsoo's ear, and Kyungsoo just snorts when Chanyeol takes a deep breath, shoulders dropping as he exhales.

"Too excited," Baekhyun quips. He snakes an arm around both Jongdae and Kyungsoo's shoulders, and Kyungsoo tries to not let reflex kick in. He clasps his hands in front of him. "I'm getting tired just watching him walk."

" _Breathe,_ " Kyungsoo mumbles. "Lots of heavy breathing. Not good for his game."

"He'll blow them away later, anyway. Dae-man here's gonna keep Chanyeol in check, yeah?"

Jongdae laughs a little. The awkward smile on his lips gives him away. "I'll see what I can do."

They're up against Anyang High today, and the players have at least twenty centimeters on Kyungsoo. From the corner of his eye, he can see Jongdae giving the players a once-over, eyes lingering longer than the usual on their balled fists. "All righties," Jongdae whispers, and Baekhyun nods in agreement. Their spines are straight and their faces are unreadable. Only the kid at the farthest right looks scared — freshman, first tournament. Scared of screwing up. Kyungsoo had been in that position before.

"Jongin and Sehun, you're up."

Yunho gives the two a pat on the back and a few reminders before sending them to the court. Chanyeol slips beside Yunho, and Jongdae takes his place beside Chanyeol. "We have to win both doubles matches; their singles players are really good," Yunho says, loud enough for Kyungsoo to catch and, beside Kyungsoo, Baekhyun just cackles. He can see the abrupt pause as Yunho stops midway through raising his hand, then carries on with his spiel, telling Chanyeol and Jongdae to secure the second win. Zitao's somewhere in the back, psyching himself up.

"See, this is the problem with singles one and two." Baekhyun draws his shoulders back as he stretches. He flexes his fingers; Kyungsoo tries not to stare. "We have to sit through all these boring matches until it's our turn."

"I heard that," Chanyeol calls out. Kyungsoo just scoffs.

Baekhyun becomes quiet company for the rest of the match, only slipping comments when Sehun doesn't bend his knees to receive a heavy ball or when Jongin slides to the right too early, sending the ball straight to the net. Baekhyun had slid closer earlier, thigh almost rubbing against Kyungsoo's. In the heat of the afternoon, sticky skin is inevitable, and Baekhyun did him the favor of moving a few spaces away when Kyungsoo began to play with the hem of his shirt. Summer's just around the corner; there will be a better excuse to ask for more space.

"Be more careful next time," Baekhyun says as he holds out a high-five in Sehun's direction. "Bend your knees; you're not that old."

"I normally don't have to but, man…" Sehun's voice drifts off. He looks over his shoulder and glances at Yunho. "Sonsaengnim, they're really good. Kinda freaks me out."

Chanyeol and Jongdae get up from their seats. Kyungsoo meets Chanyeol in the eye before the two take their positions. "Accuracy over power," he calls out, and Chanyeol offers a small smile before resting his hand on Jongdae's back, ushering Jongdae to the court.

"I really hope they lose," Baekhyun mumbles beside him. He hits Baekhyun in his side with his elbow, snorting when Baekhyun wheezes at the contact.

Kyungsoo hasn't been watching much of Chanyeol and Jongdae's practice matches recently, but this performance is a huge step up from their usual game. Chanyeol's been hitting cleaner shots, closer to the inside than just grazing the lines, and Jongdae's strokes to the corners are deep and unreturnable. It's a nice and clean sweep, 6-4 6-3, and the pair return to their side of the box with big grins and sweaty backs.

Kyungsoo tosses a towel in Chanyeol's direction, and Chanyeol catches it with relative ease.

"Jongdae, too," Baekhyun says, offering him another towel, and he doesn't look into Baekhyun's eyes for too long, quickly tearing his gaze to chuck the clean towel in Jongdae's direction.

Jongdae catches it with his face. Chanyeol erupts into a shrill peal of laughter. Beside Kyungsoo, Baekhyun is silent, and Kyungsoo tries to fill it in with his soft, almost inaudible laughter.

 

 

Whimoon defeats Anyang in three straight matches, but the tiebreaker in Zitao's last set could have gone differently had he not managed to extend his arm further to the right to tip the ball over the net just lightly. That cost Anyang a break and gave Whimoon the upper hand, one less point to conquer the match. Zitao aimed a nice kick serve that skid off the court nicely, and Kim Minjung of Anyang just shook his head as he watched the ball bounce off the court. 7-5 7-6, 19-17 in the last game. Zitao was bouncing on the balls of his feet at the end of the match.

"So, his rhythm's back," Chanyeol says, voice barely above a whisper. Kyungsoo looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed, and nudges Chanyeol with his elbow. "Took him a while. He hasn't been the same since—"

"Since Lu Han left," Kyungsoo finishes. He laughs a little as he slings his bag over his shoulder. A few feet away, Jongdae's still trying to pacify Zitao. "Doubles does that to you, you know — makes you feed off of people like a fucking leech."

Chanyeol laughs a little. "Really?"

Kyungsoo looks up at him, then fixes his eyes back on his feet.

Playing doubles alongside Jihoon had both been one of the best and worst tennis memories of his life. Jihoon was a great player — he knew how to look out for his teammate, how to provide just the ample amount of support to Kyungsoo's well-rounded play. Jihoon stayed near the baseline, eager to fill the holes in Kyungsoo's play, and Kyungsoo was in the front, near the net, grinning as their opponents ran across the court. The first time they played on the same side of the court, Kyungsoo almost hit Jihoon on the head. Jihoon ducked with relative ease. He'd hit Kyungsoo later on the bicep later, though. Kyungsoo couldn't keep still near the net; Jihoon was ready to suffer the repercussions of Kyungsoo's listlessness.

"Are you up for a light match? Just you and me," Chanyeol says after a while, just before they shuffle back to the bus.

A few spaces behind Chanyeol, Baekhyun's laughing at Zitao's latest joke, or maybe Sehun trying so hard not to express discontent with Zitao's attempts at being funny. Their eyes meet. "Maybe," Kyungsoo says, then moves forward, taking the seat behind the first row. Chanyeol looks at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly, before taking a step back to sit in front. Chanyeol snatches Kyungsoo's tennis bag and planks it on the empty seat next to him.

"That wasn't a question," Chanyeol declares. Kyungsoo just shakes his head, the laughter bubbling on his lips slipping right back down his throat when Baekhyun claims the seat beside him, eyes bright.

 

 

A light match mostly means them hitting easy balls, just practicing their footwork and the basic strokes. Kyungsoo's giving Chanyeol lobs this time, after spotting a bit of a hole in the way Chanyeol hits smashes. "You're dragging your right shoulder down way too much," Kyungsoo calls out just before he hits the ball high, and Chanyeol moves a few steps back, preparing to take the shot.

"You notice these little things and yet—" Chanyeol hits a smash right down the line, east of Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo grins. "Nah, never mind."

"And yet?" Kyungsoo asks as Chanyeol approaches the net. Chanyeol crouches, reaching for three balls, and just smiles at him in response.

"Fix your follow through for the backhand," Chanyeol says before he positions himself behind the service line. The smile on his lips holds meaning; the look in his eyes spells nothing but _focus, focus, focus on the match._ "You're holding back."

Chanyeol doesn't give him the leisure of reading into his stance as he hits a nice kick serve. Kyungsoo slides to his left, quickly gaining his balance again as he receives the ball with an easy straight forehand. Chanyeol returns with a backhand down the line, but Kyungsoo's faster, returning the shot with a crosscourt backhand that speeds to the back of the court. "Old tactic," Chanyeol mumbles as he shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. "Jihoon-hyung taught you that, right?"

"Learned it on my own," Kyungsoo replies. He dribbles a ball with his right hand, then holds it in front of him as Chanyeol crouches low. "Late nights in the courts. Polished that back in Germany."

"Sure. You don't need help from anyone."

Kyungsoo laughs a little. He tosses the ball in the air, slightly to the left, and hits a kick serve.

 

 

The best thing that happened to Kyungsoo back when he was in Germany has to be getting his ticket to playing tennis again, like finding a lost subway card after searching for it in his bar long and hard. There's also finding strength in his left hand again after favoring his right hand over it for too many years, finally accepting that it isn't so bad being a southpaw. Being different is _okay_ in tennis — it makes you hard to read, unpredictable, but if Kyungsoo digs his memory for any new tricks he's learned in Germany, there really isn't any.

Germany is like the calm before the storm. All he had to do then was to report to school online, attend special classes that are mostly of a teacher talking to him through a webcam and him taking advantage of the slight lag to think, submit coursework through an online platform. His life had been contained in Arabellastraße, the confines of the rehabilitation facility. He had the option of contacting Chanyeol and Jongdae and his mother, but it was much easier to stay away — the faintest memory of Korea made the pain in his right arm burn.

Korea is the land of beginnings and cliffhangers. In Korea, he found and lost tennis.

Tennis found Kyungsoo when he was seven. He'd been playing with the pans in the kitchen then, and a pomelo was conveniently lying around. He could have used the oranges, or the apples, but the color of the pomelo appealed to him more than the others. He'd tossed the fruit in the air, panicked for a moment as he saw it fast approaching, about to hit his face, and in that split-second of helplessness, he'd swung his left arm forward, the metal making contact with the pomelo, and the pomelo landing just a few inches shy of his mother's feet.

(The first time his therapist made him hit a tennis ball, he'd shaken so hard that he almost dropped his racket. "I can't do this," he'd said. "Yes, you can. You just have to try hard," the therapist had said. By the end of the session, he'd managed to hit three balls, and the therapist said it was good. He thought himself a miserable man. He probably wouldn't be able to play tennis ever again.)

He'd never eaten pomelo ever since.

Then there was his book and a crumpled piece of paper, a broom and some of his father's ping pong balls, anything that he could swing and hit — he used them, playing in his room between doing homework and trying not to think about doing homework. His mother had caught him playing with a lemon one time, taking the shot to her gut, and she'd only smiled at Kyungsoo and said, in her most amused voice, "Okay, okay, it's time you put all that swinging into good use."

(It had been much easier to play golf with a pencil and an eraser, but then the call of the racket and the ball was hard to resist. Five consecutive sessions after, he'd managed to get through an entire game without dropping his racket.)

His summers were lined with one tennis lesson after another. By the time he was eight, he'd already started competing against some of the kids in the open courts. The courts weren't smooth, neither were they kid-friendly, and at the end of each match Kyungsoo would have all these scars on his knees, his legs, sometimes even reaching up to his thighs. His father would laugh at him silly whenever he picked him up after matches, and his mother would attend to his wounds, berate his father for ever agreeing to enlist him in tennis. "You just love it when your son gets into trouble, don't you?"

(Kyungsoo had begged for an extra hour of therapy one time, once he'd finally landed a serve on the other side of the court without committing a fault. It was the single, most exhilarating feeling ever. It was both exciting and frightening."You just love pushing yourself, don't you?" his therapist had said, and he'd just smiled at him as he hit one service after another.)

The first real competition he'd entered was when he was nine.

It was a three-day event, a round-robin challenge. He'd managed to get past the first two opponents with relative ease, sealing his victory at 6-3 and 6-2, but the third opponent proved to be quite the challenger. He was much taller than Kyungsoo, definitely much older, and had a face of a boy you'd never think would be able to hit a fly. He had the backhand of a professional, though, the speed that rivaled that of Guillermo Coria's or Lleyton Hewitt's. He wore the same smile throughout the match, his service completely unreadable. Kyungsoo lost, 5-7. It was the first time he'd tasted defeat, and it was a lot like salt and perspiration and the sweet, honeyed smile on that boy's lips.

"What's your name, little boy?" said the challenger.

"My mom said I shouldn't talk to strangers."

"I just forgot your name; you're supposed to know mine, too." The boy bent his knees so that he was at eye-level with Kyungsoo. He had big eyes, too-pink gums. His teeth were nice and neat for a kid. He was beautiful.

"Do Kyungsoo," he finally answered. "And… you are?"

The boy laughed a little. "Kim Jihoon."

("Is there anyone you'd want to call?" the therapist asked sometime after, once Kyungsoo had already made a great deal of progress. _There is,_ he wanted to say. _There's someone I want to call. I want to tell him that I'm better now, that I don't need him to be a great tennis player. That—_ The gaze of the therapist bore holes into him; the wounds were deep. He could feel himself bleeding.

"No one," he said, instead. He sent an email to Chanyeol and his mother after that, saying, "I'm doing better these days. Hope to be back soon.")

Kyungsoo forgot faces, but never movement. The moment he'd seen the same backhand, that sharp service, the same footwork and the twist of the torso, the name spilled from his lips like poison begging to be spit out. "Kim Jihoon," Kyungsoo said, breathless, when he faced Jihoon for a chance to be part of Whimoon High School's tennis team. "You're Kim Jihoon, right?"

Jihoon smiled, easy on the corners. "I'm bad with names, but I'm good with faces," Jihoon said, then laughed a little. "And my memory really sucks right now so please, feel free to laugh at me. What's your name again?"

"Do Kyungsoo," Kyungsoo replied. Jihoon towered over him just like before, like seven years of not seeing each other on court did very little to change things. Kyungsoo was a grown man already. He had a better service, possessed a one-handed backhand. He'd been playing with his right hand for the past five years. He hadn't been called a 'southpaw' in a long time.

("So, why did you stop playing with your left hand?"

"I wish it was easy to explain," Kyungsoo replied. He balled his right fist, then unclenched it. His hand was shaking. It's not like you can tell someone who's has never thought of making tennis the center of his life that _the hand chooses the player_. You pick up a racket with your hand and, if it doesn't feel right, you switch to your other hand. You look for the right grip, a racket that fits so perfectly in the palm of your hand that you can almost say that it was _made for you._ And then you hear people saying that playing with your left hand is wrong — it's different, weird. _Southpaws always have it easy, what with them getting an advantage court when serving—_ "I just stopped. It just happened. And now, I don't really have a choice but to play with my left again.")

"Cute," Jihoon said. He ruffled Kyungsoo's hair and gave him a pat on the back. "Great game. That service really screwed me up."

Kyungsoo stared at Jihoon's outstretched hand, leaned back, then looked up at Jihoon. Joonmyun was calling Jihoon already, and Kris was a towering presence just behind Jihoon. "Great game," Kyungsoo replied, smiling, and took a deep breath as Jihoon squeezed his hand briefly before turning on his heel and waving at Joonmyun.

("Looks like you're good to get back on court."

 _It's not like you have a choice,_ Kyungsoo wanted to say. _You have to return me to Korea now, see if your masterpiece is no longer broken._ "Then it's been a really great stay here," he said, instead, and gave his therapist a bright smile. "Thank you so much.")

 

 

Preparations for the match against Kyunghee have Yunho asking the regulars to play longer and practice harder. Sehun and Jongin occupy court number three against Chanyeol and Jongdae, trying to come up with a new formation that will confuse the opponent as much as it confuses them. Taemin is Zitao's choice of a practice buddy — Taemin's shots pack just enough power and accuracy to have Zitao running around, quick on his feet. Kyungsoo shuffles to court number one as soon as he arrives after his advanced Physics class, Baekhyun trailing him, shoulders hunched.

"Don't tell me you're playing against me again," Kyungsoo mumbles when he looks over his shoulder. Baekhyun's already at the other side of the court, bouncing on his feet as he gets his legs warmed up. There's a big grin on Baekhyun's lips when he finally looks up and starts stretching his arms, and Kyungsoo's stomach lurches, a sharp, tangy flavor catching at the back of his throat.

"Just between you and me," Baekhyun begins. He moves closer to the net as if to whisper, but snickers before he continues, "I think you're the only one who's at my level."

Kyungsoo clenches his fists. "Go find another man to play with. Or have fun with, I don't know." He waves him off with a hand. He gulps hard. "I'm not interested."

"I'm here to _play tennis,_ not eat you up—"

"Yeah," Kyungsoo retorts. He's caught between snorting and snarling and just plain _shutting up,_ but his lips are hot, inconsolable. "Because you'll blow me."

"Grow the fuck up!"

Baekhyun's racket falls to the ground. His hands are balled into fists, and he's shaking all over — and Kyungsoo is, too, but he's much too far from the net for Baekhyun to catch that. He presses his lips in a thin line as he clenches his fists all the more, nails digging into his skin, and the clawing pain on his skin, in his stomach, his chest, is nothing compared to the fire burning in Baekhyun's eyes, the way Baekhyun's lips burn a bright red when he bites too hard, the hint of blood on the surface.

"Get over yourself, Kyungsoo," Baekhyun manages after a while. There's the faint sound of Chanyeol saying _hey, what's going on?_ in the background, the loud thumping in Kyungsoo's chest. "Now get behind the baseline and face me like a real man."

 _A real man._ Kyungsoo scoffs but follows, anyway. When he turns around to bend low in preparation for Baekhyun's serve, he feels his right hand go numb — at the cool wind blowing or Baekhyun's sharp gaze, he can't tell. Baekhyun tosses the ball in the air, straight up. Kyungsoo follows the movement of his arms with his eyes and he takes a step to the right, arm stretched out to return Baekhyun's serve.

The ball falls short, hits well outside of the service box. "Fault!" comes the linesman's call and, from the corner of Kyungsoo's eye, he can see Baekhyun shaking his head, can see the defeated fall of his shoulders, the way he drags his feet back to the service box. The way his fingers release the ball slowly, movements measured and calculated and lacking life.

"Focus," he calls out to Baekhyun. Baekhyun tosses the ball again, this time slightly to the left, and Kyungsoo's feet move on instinct — to the left — responding to the movement of Baekhyun's body, two souls meeting again on court for the first time in so long.

 

 

" _Shit._ "

Sehun rests his forehead on the back of his hand. The muscles of his thighs tighten as Yunho slowly extends his right arm, and a small yelp escapes Sehun's lips. "No way am I letting you play with an arm like this," Yunho says, voice soft and low. "Have you been holding your grip too loose again?"

Jongin nods, and Sehun just shoots him a glare. "That, and, well, we've been playing more matches than the usual lately—"

"I said work hard, not _overwork_ yourselves." Yunho shakes his head. "C'mon, get up, let's get you to a hospital."

Jongin slings Sehun's left arm around his shoulder and helps Sehun get up. Yunho mumbles something about redoing the match assignments, looks over his shoulder before heading off with Jongin and Sehun. "Chanyeol, I trust your judgment in rearranging the players. Heck, you might even know their play better than I do." Chanyeol nods and ushers Jongdae to the locker rooms, but glances over his shoulder before disappearing behind the door.

Kyungsoo catches his gaze. His breath hitches, then regains its old momentum. _Quick reflexes, probably the best thing about you, next to your serve,_ Kyungsoo remembers Yunho telling him when he qualified for a position as a regular. Kyungsoo hadn't figured out what Yunho meant then, until he was made to team up with Jihoon against Kris and Joonmyun. They won in two sets.

"I hope I don't get bumped down to doubles," Baekhyun mumbles.

Kyungsoo nudges him in his side. The image of a Sehun wincing in pain burns at the back of his eyelids. "Sorry," he whispers, then returns to the courts to do some laps.

Chanyeol calls for them again after twenty minutes, a clipboard propped under his right arm and Jongdae's hand flat on his shoulder. "There will be a lot of changes," Chanyeol begins. Jongdae gestures for Kyungsoo and Baekhyun to take a seat. "And you'll probably hate me for them."

Baekhyun shrugs. "I know I have experience in doubles but that was _years ago!_ And _no way in hell_ am I teaming up with Jongin or Taemin." Baekhyun shakes his head. "Nope, not my style. Sorry. You have to find someone else."

Jongade's soft laughter stills the atmosphere for a few seconds. "Well, that's going to be a problem."

"What do you mean?"

"You see—" Jondgae snatches the clipboard from Chanyeol, and Chanyeol almost jumps at the sudden action, the sharp edges of the objects scoring his shirt. "You two are the only ones who have experience in doubles—"

"Zitao can do it."

"Zitao can _definitely_ do it," Kyungsoo repeats, voice a few notches higher.

"And Zitao takes too long to adjust to change. You two are veterans in the sport already, and while our track record in doubles isn't that bad, the quality of the game we've been producing has dropped considerably in the past months."

Baekhyun laughs a little. "I'm telling you, it's the extra hours of training—"

"What he's trying to say is that we're putting you two in doubles," Chanyeol says all in one breath. "As in, the same doubles team. Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, doubles two. How does that sound?"

 _Fucked up,_ Kyungsoo wants to say. Chanyeol's eyes crinkle at the corners, and no way in hell is Kyungsoo falling for this trick shot — Chanyeol feigning amusement so miserably, it almost makes him want to throw up. Those twelve months in Germany weren't spent just recovering from the strain of playing too much tennis or taking a heavy swing to the elbow; he'd only spent a third of those getting back on track, the remaining trying to convince himself that things will go back to normal, back to the way they were. He'd return to Seoul with as much passion for tennis as before, maybe less fear and apprehension. A year later and all he's ever achieved is a healed right elbow and a stronger, more capable left arm. Maybe even a serve even the best amateur players can only dream of.

"Terrible," they chime at the same time. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows, and Kyungsoo tears his gaze faster than he can clench his fists again. "Awful. A really bad decision. Stop _copying_ me, goddamit!"

Jongdae snorts. There's a familiar tug on the curve of the lip. "Well, that's cute. They're arguing like a—"

"— Real doubles team," Chanyeol finishes. He ruffles Jongdae's hair and pulls Jongdae close for — a departure from the courts, to retreat to the locker rooms for a second time? For a one-armed hug much less disarming than a full embrace? Kyungsoo swallows hard, Chanyeol's big grin making him squint. Too bright, too happy. Too much of everything Kyungsoo doesn't need.

"Light practice for thirty minutes!" Chanyeol calls out before he and Jongdae head to the courts. Beside Kyungsoo, Baekhyun buries his face in his hands.

"I think I'm going to hate you," Baekhyun says, earnest. Kyungsoo tries hard not to laugh; misery isn't funny even if it paints Baekhyun an interesting shade of red.

Kyungsoo stands, dusts himself off, gets back on his feet, He wiggles his toes. He'll put extra chili in Chanyeol's ramyun and spike the liquid in his water bottle with soju or something. He'll make Chanyeol pay for his crimes, but first he reaches for his racket and hits Baekhyun lightly on the ass when Baekhyun stops right in the middle of the passageway to the other side of the court.

"Well, what do you know. Something we agree on." Kyungsoo snorts. He doesn't address Baekhyun's giggle. "I think I'm going to hate you, too."

 

 

In their few minutes as doubles partners, Kyungsoo only ever manages to convince Baekhyun that it's not wise to hit your partner while he's heading to the opposite side of the court. It was funny the first few times, but when Baekhyun started hitting heavier balls and aiming some shots at Kyungsoo's butt, it had become increasingly annoying. "Let's see you deal with a swollen ass," Kyungsoo says now, snarling, and Baekhyun only laughs at him for a good whole minute, beads of tears at the corners of his eyes by the time he composes himself again.

"Finally made you smile again," Baekhyun says, breathing even. There's a hiccup at the end of the sentence, and Baekhyun quickly clasps a hand over his mouth.

Kyungsoo simply rolls his eyes and hits Baekhyun on the butt with his racket. "Come on, kid. Chanyeol's gonna kick us out if we extend practice."

"By hitting us on the ass?" Baekhyun's lips are brimming with laughter again; Kyungsoo can't say he doesn't feel the same. He shakes his head before Baekhyun can say anything, and Baekhyun ends up in a fit of laughter, face buried in the slope between Kyungsoo's shoulders.

The vibrations tickle his skin.

Doubles makes Baekhyun look like an eight-year-old kid running around with no particular aim in mind. He chases balls well beyond his reach, crosses paths with Kyungsoo all too often that their game is half trying not to step on each other's feet and half actually trying to get the ball to the other side of the court. Give Baekhyun the leisure of focusing on his own play, _then_ fill the holes in his game — that's the best strategy to go with at the moment, but they're playing for the nationals. You can't just step on court and hope for the best, hope your doubles partner doesn't screw up. Hope your body moves in accord with his so that you can pull off a good enough doubles strategy.

It's taken Kyungsoo more than a month to get used being alone on court; two months to get accustomed to having someone playing behind him, running around and filling the holes in the play. Because really, how can you trust someone to work with you if you can't even trust yourself? How can you trust someone to put his own game at stake for the sake of yours, to pick up after you, to cover your back? How can he when the only rules Baekhyun recognizes are those involving the boundaries of the court? You don't just play for less than an hour and magically strike up chemistry with that person. Real tennis doesn't work that way.

"There's probably an article on doubles strategies online," Baekhyun says. He locks his arms behind his back, crosses them at the back of his head. "But they're in English. Think you can help me go through them?"

Kyungsoo looks at Baekhyun for a while, studies his form, the quirk of the lip. The tone of Baekhyun's voice says _please, please, please, let's make this work out_ ; the look in his eyes, _think you can make me literate enough in English to understand a whole page of English words?_ Baekhyun is all about challenges and pushing limits, embracing them — this, the new arrangement, is both. Baekhyun is thrilled to the point of being excited; Kyungsoo can feel tiny explosions at the tips of his fingers.

"We can do two hours of English reading…" Kyungsoo says after a while. He scrunches his nose. "If you're up to it."

Baekhyun laughs a little. "You want to spend two hours with me?"

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at Baekhyun — more like _squints,_ because now he's tasked to study Baekhyun more carefully than ever. Little loopholes are the things Kyungsoo must look out for; on court, they can be traitors to a good game. "I _have_ to spend two hours with you," he replies, then quickens his pace, walking ahead of Baekhyun so that he won't have to address Baekhyun's laughter.

He looks over his shoulder and smiles to himself. Doubles is a duty; Baekhyun is his responsibility.

 

 

Bucheon is unusually quiet at eight in the evening, but maybe it's because they've been weaving through narrow walkways and alleys for the past ten minutes as they navigate to Baekhyun's house. Kyungsoo expects a lively household, maybe three other siblings and a doting mother, an overly concerned father, but what greets him is the sight of an old lady standing by the doorstep, a small, impossible smile on her lips as she says, "Late again, Baekhyunnie?"

" _Halmeoni,_ " Baekhyun says, a thick layer of — something akin to embarrassment? Feeling small? Kyungsoo can't quite pinpoint it yet. He watches as Baekhyun takes his grandmother in his arms and mumbles something in her ear that sounds a lot like, _Shouldn't you be sleeping now? You should be resting, halmeoni. What did I tell you about straining yourself?_ All Baekhyun ever gets in response is shy laughter and a light punch on the arm — definitely a _Byun_ trait — then a small smile, rough at the corners.

"Oh, and who is this boy you're with?" Baekhyun's grandmother asks. Kyungsoo takes a step forward and bows at her, smile intact when he snaps back up.

"Ah, this is Kyungsoo. He's my classmate and teammate in the tennis team."

"Oh, I'm sure a lot of girls are having fun watching your matches..." she teases, then turns on her heel even before Baekhyun can widen his eyes at her.

Another lady welcomes them — a younger one, this time, someone Baekhyun introduces as his grandmother's personal nurse. "She stays here in the house on weekdays. On weekends, it's my turn to look after _halmeoni_ , so if Chanyeol _ever_ schedules any practices—"

"Inevitable, you know," Kyungsoo replies quickly, and offers a soft smile to Baekhyun's grandmother when she looks over her shoulder. "It's tournament season. And we're playing for the nationals. We promise to finish practicing early, though!" Kyungsoo calls out after her, and she flashes him a thumbs up and blows a kiss in his direction soon after.

Baekhyun excuses himself once they get inside, only resurfacing from time to time to get his grandmother a glass of water or to soak a hand towel. There's a perfunctory smile on his lips as he moves from one place to the other, not a single complaint escaping from his lips. Kyungsoo looks around him in the dining room, English textbooks and readings forgotten on the table. There's a collection of tea cups and pots near the stove, cute, little figurines lined along the counter. And Ovaltinies in a jar.

Kyungsoo snorts. _What a kid._

"Hey, sorry," Baekhyun says, plopping on the seat beside Kyungsoo's as soon as he returns. "Finally convinced her to go to bed. She's stubborn, really, sometimes even more hard-headed than I am."

"She's charming," Kyungsoo confesses. "Very _Byun-like._ "

"What is that even supposed to mean?"

Kyungsoo to his side and snorts. Baekhyun's got a glimmer in his eyes, like hours upon hours of tennis practice have done nothing to wear him out. Two hours of English hagwon, Kyungsoo tells himself. Baekhyun can definitely handle two more hours of studying English under the guise of having dinner while having English singing lessons. It can't be that hard. "It means that we should start studying soon," he replies then shrugs, reaching over to grab one of Baekhyun's English textbook and scan the pages.

Baekhyun laughs a little before standing from his seat and grabbing food from the fridge. From the corner of his eye, Kyungsoo watches Baekhyun.

 

 

"It's kinda weird not having Jongdae on the same side of the court."

Kyungsoo sort of snorts, laughter lodged somewhere in his throat. "He just went to the bathroom, you know," he says, still giggling as he takes a slice of his kimchi. Baekhyun reaches over to steal some of his food, and he quickly intercepts Baekhyun's chopsticks with his own. "Out, out, this isn't your side of the court. Get lost."

"But we're playing on the same side now," Baekhyun says. There's a peculiar glint in his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Aren't we, _partner?_ "

Chanyeol cackles. Kyungsoo scrunches his nose, then lays his chopsticks down on the cover of his food container. _Partner._

The first time Yunho saw them on the same side of the court, he laughed for an entire minute, mumbling something about miracles and dreams coming true and _what the fuck— oh shit, pardon the language._ When Jongin learned about it, he'd excused himself to grab some water. Zitao laughed at them silly without warning, voice reaching even the farthest of courts, abruptly cutting short Chanyeol and Jongdae's practice session. Kyungsoo had rolled his eyes and told Baekhyun to just _serve the goddamned ball_.

Baekhyun made an exhibition of that match, and Kyungsoo stuck his tongue out at Baekhyun at the end of the last set. "You're dragging your left foot when you move to the right," was the best Kyungsoo could come up with, and Baekhyun slid an arm around Kyungsoo's shoulder, relaxed and easy, the hot press of their sides oddly comforting.

"I've got to crack that one, the spacing out thing."

Kyungsoo blinks a few times, a violent breath of life filling his lungs. Jongdae has rejoined them, laying his tray with food he'd picked up on his way back down on the table, then takes the seat beside Chanyeol's. Chanyeol's grinning at Kyungso, canines peeking. "No need to," Kyungsoo mumbles in response. He elbows Baekhyun in his side and earns a yelp, and he keeps his eyes fixed on his food in an attempt to not think of Baekhyun's pain.

Three hours of practice dissolve into just a slightly perfected routine at the very end. The first time they get through a set without stepping on each other's feet or running into each other, Jongdae applauds them and pretends to wipe a tear away. Baekhyun brushes Jongdae off with a wave of a hand and a clean kick serve, one that Jongdae just barely eludes. Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder, meaning to give Baekhyun a thumbs up, but he ends up with a numb arm, fingers equally numb. Baekhyun is grinning at him as if asking, _did I do well? Did I blow you away? Did I, Kyungsoo?_

Baekhyun serves another kick serve, and Jongdae finally returns it with a forehand down the line. Baekhyun hits it with a forehand to Chanyeol's left, and Chanyeol counters with a backhand drop shot. "I've got this!" Kyungsoo says, sliding to the front to catch the ball, then flicks his wrist with just enough power to send to the other side.

The ball grazes the net and rolls down it. Jongdae looks at the ball, then up at Kyungsoo. He doesn't fight the grin creeping to his lips when Jongdae shakes his head. "What the hell?"

"That, my dear friends, is real doubles," Baekhyun says, walking over to where Kyungsoo is. He rests a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder and squeezes it briefly. "Right?"

Defense mechanism tells him to shrug it off and to tell Baekhyun to get back to his side of the court; a voice at the back of his head says, _you don't have to counter all the time, you know._ "Yeah," he simply says in response, but it's enough to earn a smile from Baekhyun and a light pat on the ass.

"Don't stretch it," Kyungsoo mumbles. On the other side of the court, Chanyeol and Jongdae laugh.

Baekhyun is still smiling.

 

 

Jongdae cons Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Kyungsoo into dropping by the food cart just across the school before heading home. It's not out of the way, but fatigue has its arms wrapped around Kyungsoo like a quilt and Kyungsoo just wants to see his bed again, crash then wake up at two in the morning to study the chapters to be discussed in class the following day. "It'll be fun!" Jongdae says as he drags Kyungsoo by the wrist. Chanyeol has his hands on Baekhyun's shoulders, pushing him forward, and Baekhyun's face is void of any trace of a smile.

"Oh, you brought friends?" says the vendor. He takes a small, paper tray, pours a generous amount of tteokbokki in it, then adds a few slices of yellow radish on the side. "I remember what you said before about yellow radish going well with tteokbokki. I tried it, and people have been flocking the cart ever since!"

The corners of Kyungsoo's lips tug up slowly, awkward around the edges. Baekhyun's giggling. "Uh, thank you?"

"No, son," the vendor replies. He takes Kyungsoo's hand and places the tray on Kyungsoo's palm; Kyungsoo tries really hard not to wince at the sudden surge of heat. "Thank _you._ "

"But _I'm_ the one who brought him here, _haraboji_ ," Baekhyun retorts playfully, and the old man chuckles.

Jongdae pokes at the tteok a few times as he slides beside Kyungsoo who has already eaten all the strips of yellow radish. "So, you two come here often?"

"We get hungry a lot after practice."

"I mean," Jongdae says, pausing to chew the tteok. "Just the two of you. _Alone._ "

Kyungsoo snorts. "You make it sound like it's a bad thing. I mean—"

"I mean it's nice, you know, that's you're making friends," Jongdae finishes, smiling at Kyungsoo as he holds up a slice of tteok. "That you're back in the swing of things," Jongdae adds.

Kyungsoo knows better than to trust the curl of Jongdae's lips, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiles, everything that Jongdae is, so he keeps the shields up — maintains a safe distance from Jongdae for fear of falling prey to any of Jongdae's traps — but instead he bumps into Baekhyun, a yelp escaping Baekhyun's lips as he accidentally spews out some of the gochujang.

"Save the tteok!" Chanyeol yells. Jongdae makes wailing sounds for effect.

Baekhyun turns around, facing him with narrowed eyes and a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Kyungsoo leans back, eyebrow raised. "What are you gonna do?" Kyungsoo asks, teasing, and Baekhyun takes a smidgen of the gochujang, wipes his thumb on Kyungsoo's cheek, down to the right corner of Kyungsoo's lips.

"Payback," Baekhyun says, then licks the remnants of the sauce off his thumb. Kyungsoo wipes the mess away with the back of his hand, eyes still nailed to the back of Baekhyun's head.

 

 

Kyungsoo takes a few steps forward and surveys the court. It hasn't felt this big in years, hasn't been so intimidating and daunting. There's the net just a few meters away but it feels like there's a whole stretch of road to be crossed until he gets there to tip a ball over, to execute a well-timed drop shot. He takes a deep breath and tightens his grip on his racket. His fingers are cold and numb; there's a tinge of pain in his right elbow.

"You alright?" Baekhyun asks. Kyungsoo looks at him, just stares, until Baekhyun cups his face, palms warm against his skin. "Hey, look at me. We'll do fine. Just relax," Baekhyun says — once, twice, until it becomes much less of a warning to Kyungsoo. "We'll get through this, trust me," he finishes.

Kyungsoo remembers the feeling of Jihoon's hands on his skin — one hand bracing his neck, the other traveling south, all the way down to his torso. "Look at me, Kyungsoo. You don't have to be afraid. It's just you and me now," he can still hear Jihoon saying, can hear Jihoon whispering in his ear or on his skin, warm lips pressed on his shoulder. Jihoon's voice cuts through the loud crash of the water against the tiles. Jihoon—

Kyungsoo swats one of Baekhyun's hands away, and Baekhyun takes a step back, eyebrows furrowed. "Sorry, I—" Kyungsoo shakes his head a little and mumbles another apology before approaching the net for the coin toss.

"Don't choke," Baekhyun whispers in his ear as they wait for the other pair to get on the court. Their shoulders bump. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath.

Kyunghee takes the opening service game, but not without a few hiccups. Baekhyun manages to aim a nice, clean forehand at the far right corner of the doubles court, but Kyunghee counters with a heavy backhand. Kyungsoo manages to catch the ball in time and hits a backhand to the opposite corner, one that Kyunghee's player at the baseline narrowly misses, swinging a bit too late. The ball hits the net where it's the highest, and there's a triumphant smile on Baekhyun's lips when Kyungsoo turns around to give him a thumbs up.

Sweat, victory, and sunshine look good on Baekhyun.

Each pair counters at the slightest sign of a break of serve, and they reach 5-5 in a little over an hour. Kyunghee calls for a medical time out to address the net player's cramps, and Baekhyun simply snorts as he uncaps his bottle of water. "Weak," Bakehyun mumbles, and Kyungsoo kind of snorts, kind of laughs at him because Baekhyun had been in a similar situation weeks ago when he was complaining about weak thighs and poor stamina.

"I wouldn't call him that, if I were you," Kyungsoo says. "It's like telling yourself that—"

"Whatever. Just… don't do that thing you do. Don't be weird."

Baekhyun turns to his right, body now facing Kyungsoo. He rests a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "We're gonna win the next two games, but I need you not to choke," he says, voice lighter, still thin and reedy from all the running across the court, syllables spaced out unevenly, like he's singing a love song he can't figure out the tune of instead of saying, _Don't you dare screw up, Kyungsoo. You can't screw up now._ He doesn't press further, nor does he hold Kyungsoo longer, finally letting his hand fall to his side, and Kyungsoo simply shrugs in response.

Baekhyun's words ring brightly in Kyungsoo's ear. He answers, "Yeah," long after the topic has ceased to be relevant. Baekhyun turns on his feel, bright smile on his lips, bright eyes burning with determination, a bounce in his step as he heads to the baseline.

Kyungsoo tosses the ball in the air slightly to the left, and serves. And then again, and again. Baekhyun aims a clean cross-court backhand that lands right on the line. 6-5 is easier than most people make it seem; the difficult part is actually convincing yourself that you deserve to win.

 

 

Baekhyun curses under his breath when the last set of the match stretches past 6-5 and into 6-6. "Why are they good?" he soon admits but keeps his voice barely audible, still. Baekhyun crouches low for a while, then bounces back on his feet. He locks his arms behind his back and cracks his neck — there's a small patch of skin burning a bright shade of red. Kyungsoo makes a mental note to address it later.

"Baekhyun, can you take the net?" Kyungsoo says. Baekhyun looks at his, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted, like Kyungsoo's asking him to jump off a cliff. "I said, take the net. I'll explain to you later. I'll take the baseline."

"You know I suck at net play," Baekhyun grumbles.

Kyungsoo offers a small smile. "But they don't." He hits Baekhyun on the ass with his racket. "Come on, time for you to take center stage. Make me proud."

 _Trust me,_ he means to say, but Baekhyun has already turned on his heel even before Kyungsoo can say more. _Fuck you,_ Baekhyun mouths in response one he's positioned himself near the net, and Kyungsoo puts on his best, most assuring smile, wearing it up until he has to call the attention of the ball boy behind him to ask for tennis balls.

Seven chances to win this match. No room to make mistakes.

The first two points are easy wins, but the succeeding ones prove to be a challenge. Baekhyun manages to score a break against Kyunghee, returning a smash with a backhand drive to the back, just on the doubles line. Kyunghee roars back with a service ace down the line, then a break of their own with a drop shot that Baekhyun almost catches. _Don't choke—_ Baekhyun's voice rings in his ears, and he tosses the ball in the air, ball grazing the net on the first serve, but the second service lands on the court perfectly and curves out nicely to the left.

Baekhyun meets Kyungsoo halfway through, the heads of their rackets clashing as they pass each other. "I'm serving to the backhand," Baekhyun whispers before they pull away. _Don't choke._ Kyungsoo shuffles to the front of the court, crouched low, grinning.

He hears the faintest sound of Baekhyun's laughter before the sound of ball making contact with the strings takes over. He hears footsteps, Baekhyun's heavy breathing, the opponents scuttling on the other side of the court. Kyunghee returns with a backhand, and Kyungsoo aims a forehand straight to the back of the court.

He can feel a tingling sensation in the tips of his fingers. Two points to go.

He looks over his shoulder and furrows his eyebrows slightly. Baekhyun's leaning forward more than the usual, and his shoulders are more open when he releases the ball. _Unbelievable,_ Kyungsoo says to himself as he shifts his gaze to his opponents. He waits for the sound of the ball hitting the sweet spot, waits for Baekhyun to land back on both feet, for the ball to speed past him and straight to the other side of the court, ball bouncing to the left side and out of the court even before the opponent can hit it back. "Yes!" he hears Baekhyun exclaim, and he straightens his spine, stretches his legs, walks over to where Baekhyun is to give him a high five.

"Swing more from the left next time for the extra kick," Kyungsoo whispers, and Baekhyun pulls away with light laughter, a soft smile tugging his lips up.

Kyunghee double faults and gives the last point to Whimoon, 7-5 7-6(5). The sound of people cheering is drowned out when Baekhyun drops his racket to the ground, when Baekhyun takes Kyungsoo in his arms and says, again and again, "We did it, we did it, _oh my God,_ we _actually_ did it!"

Kyungsoo buries his face in the crook of Baekhyun's neck, light pats on the back in tandem with his breathing. "We did, Baekhyun," he whispers. He doesn't fight back the smile making its way to his lips. "We did."

 

 

Yunho lets them off the hook for the next three days, but Baekhyun drags Kyungsoo to the courts, anyway, for a bit of light practice. "Just to familiarize ourselves with each other's movements," Baekhyun says, fingers wound tightly around Kyungsoo's wrist as they run out to the courts, bags slung over their shoulders. Chanyeol and Jongdae follow, taking a leisurely walk, and Kyungsoo doesn't even attempt to look over his shoulder so he won't have to address the look on Chanyeol's face.

"Ready?" Chanyeol asks from the other side of the court. after they warm up. Jongdae's teeth gleam under the afternoon sun. Kyungsoo keeps his eyes fixed on their legs, their torsos, the way they move _with each other_ on court. He nods, and Chanyeol tosses the ball in the air. Nice, clean slice serve down the middle, Kyungsoo predicts. Baekhyun's backhand can handle that. If Baekhyun slips up, he can cover with a nice, easy forehand to Jongdae's back, just before Jongdae approaches the net. Jongdae hates passing shots even if he uses them to win points half the time.

"Ready," he mumbles. He can hear the faint sound of Baekhyun's rubber shoes screeching just behind him. He tightens his grip on his racket.

They run into the Australian formation by accident, during a long rally between Baekhyun and Chanyeol. Kyungsoo alternates between moving closer to the T when Chanyeol takes a shot, aiming it to Baehyun's backhand, and moving away when it's Baekhyun's turn to counter. He intercepts with a volley straight to Jongdae's feet, and Jongdae erupts into this weird sort of laughter, shrill and loud, making Baekhyun drop his racket and yell, "Dirty tactics! I'm calling it!"

"Dude, you totally pulled of the Australian formation!"

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. "We… did? I wasn't—" He looks over his shoulder. Baekhyun still has his hands clasped over his ears, wailing in mock pain. "Was he on the same side?"

"I know it when I see it, Soo," Chanyeol affirms. "I think your body was moving on its own, just like—"

"Good, then," Kyungsoo interjects. He walks over to where Baekhyun is and hits him on the ass lightly, applying just enough power on the flick of the wrist to make Baekhyun yelp. "Hey, get up. Do that thing you did earlier and let's see if we pull off the same technique without a hitch."

Baekhyun looks at him, wide-eyed, a teeth-baring smile on his lips. "You trust me to do it again?"

Kyungsoo shrugs. "I guess."

Baekhyun laughs a little before heading back to the baseline, bouncing the ball in sync with his steps. "I won't let you down!" Baekhyun calls out, and Kyungsoo bites the inside of his cheek on reflex, fixes his eyes on the ugly markings on Jongdae's tennis shoes to keep himself from smiling, grinning, laughing all the way.

When he looks up, Jongdae meets his gaze, smirking. Chanyeol's steady forehands straight across the court set Kyungsoo back in rhythm, like falling back into old habit — playing tennis dangerously close to the net, with a looming yet soothing presence just beyond his shoulder, ready to fill the gaps in his play.

 

 

Sehun returns to the courts with a sling over his shoulder and the corners of his lips pulled all the way down. "I hate to break it to you, but the team will have to suffer without my greatness to pull you guys through," Sehun says, and Jongin fakes a sob but slides a hand across Sehun's back, gentle on the skin when he rubs slow circles on Sehun's shoulder.

"I'll make you proud, maknae," Baekhyun says, eyes closed as he nods dramatically and pokes Sehun's tummy. "Or at least I'll try not to screw up."

Sehun snorts. "I have faith in Kyungsoo-hyung. You, however…"

Baekhyun raises an eyebrow at him, then looks at Yunho. "Coach, can I maim him? Injure him completely? Tickle him until he gets a tickle injury or something?"

Yunho waves him off with a hand and turns on his heel. Kyungsoo just shakes his head and pulls Jongin to one side of the court.

"Don't think we don't notice," he whispers in Jongin's ear, and the lines on Jongin's forehead ease, a tiny, tiny smile tugging at the corners of Jongin's lips. Baekhyun's still going on about declaring war against Sehun but hasn't really taken action to carry out his plans. All talk and no action, reckless and unhibited — Baekhyun in a nutshell, but only on the outside. Dig deeper and you'll find out he actually wants to grow at least three more centimeters, that he actually likes singing Christina Aguilera songs in the showers, and that he pushes himself even harder than he pushes other people. Express interest in grabbing a snack, though, and he'd drop his racket all at once, then pick it up after slowly bending his knees, eyes fixed on you, asking, _your treat, right?_

"It's been hard," Jongin replies. He exhales loudly but keeps the small smile on his lips. "But hey, I'll manage. Singles isn't so bad."

"It's different," Kyungsoo says. Sehun's grabbing Baekhyun by the collar of his shirt now, playfully jabbing at his arm. He can make out some of the words Sehun is saying — _tiny hyung, gonna kick your ass someday, looking great with Kyungsoo-hyung, though_. "Refreshing. Like lime juice or something."

"Really bad comparison, hyung." Jongin chuckles. "But hey, don't worry. I'm good. I just probably won't—"

"Play doubles until Sehun recovers?" Kyungsoo laughs a little. "I know where you're coming from."

Jongin's attention has shifted to Baekhyun attempting twist one of Sehun's nipples through his shirt, and Sehun kneeing Baekhyun in the thigh. "Hey, hey! You two—" Jongin dashes to the scene as quickly as he can, pulling the two apart, and Chanyeol slides beside Kyungsoo, taking the vacated place and resting a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder.

"Words of wisdom from the exo-doubles turned ex-singles player?" Chanyeol asks. His eyes are fixed on the scene in front of them; he drums his fingers on Kyungsoo's shoulder.

"Who ever said I wasn't going back to playing singles?"

Chanyeol looks at Kyungsoo, holding him from an arm's length, and laughs at him lightly, like there's a foam of something funny flaunted on his cheek. "Yeah, you're adaptable," Chanyeol simply says, ruffling Kyungsoo's hair to punctuate his statement.

Kyungsoo doesn't push him away, but he doesn't lean into the touch. Baekhyun's gaze from meters away pins him down to his spot like a nail to a slab of wood, leaving a gash, leaving a mark.

 

 

English hagwon extends for another hour, but only because Baekhyun insists to look up articles on doubles strategies in English. Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows, eye squinting as he moves closer to the monitor of his computer, index finger tracing lines in the air. "I don't get this bit about _poaching_. What the hell is poaching?" he asks and Kyungsoo just leans back, head hung low in an effort to shield the grin on his lips from Baekhyun's view.

"What? I was a one-hit doubles wonder. I don't even know why Jongdae thought our team up was a good idea," Baekhyun says, grumbling. He sinks in his chair, shoulder bumping against Kyungsoo's lightly. Kyungsoo feels a surge of electricity through his left arm, but there's a stinging pain in his right elbow. Baekhyun hasn't stopped moving in his seat, like a cat looking for the most comfortable sleeping position. "Fine, I wasn't a one-hit wonder. I played doubles in the open courts, but I just winged those matches! I don't even know where the kids I teamed up with back then are now."

Kyungsoo snorts. "Do you do that all the time? Do things and just hope they work out somehow?"

Baekhyun looks at him, the same expression still on his features, save for the small smile tugging up the corners of his lips. "I do things and do them to the best of my ability, _then_ hope for the best," he replies, shrugging as he ends. "I don't know… I mean, if I keep thinking things through too much, I end up confused and troubled, like I don't really know what I want. Sure, I prepare for exams or matches or whatever, but practice can only do so much? Not everything you've studied appears in an exam, after all, or everything you've practiced for a tournament, all the techniques and shit — sometimes you just have to go with your gut feel."

Kyungsoo laughs a little. "Sounds pretty optimistic."

"Hey, at least I'm not a walking ball of negativity." Baekhyun rubs the tip of his nose and folds his legs, sitting on them as he turns to his side to face Kyungsoo. "Doesn't that wear you out? Man, negative vibes drain the shit out of me. You should try wearing a happy cap from time to time. Although I'm not sure how you feel about flat hair…"

Baekhyun wiggles his fingers in the air and Kyungsoo just laughs, sinking further in his seat. He imagines Baekhyun with this ridiculous happy cap that looks like a poor imitation of a Santa Hat or maybe something akin to a Wimbledon trophy, except made of cloth. He won't have flat hair, and he doesn't really mind, but sometimes the thought of drowning out the outside noise when he slips his ears in the cap can be daunting, like he's missing out on something, purposely leaving an opening for opponents to capitalize on, leaving himself slightly vulnerable. Baekhyun grins at him, the corners of his mouth turned upward in a boxy smile, and he sees nothing but courage and fearlessness — _recklessness_. Something he isn't and can never be.

"My hair never goes flat," Kyungsoo answers after a while. He sits on his hands and swings his legs forward — wrong footwork, bad form. Yunho will call him out on this; Chanyeol will laugh at him for it.

Baekhyun reaches out and cards his fingers through Kyungsoo's hair. Kyungsoo only responds with a sharp look, furrowed eyebrows, a slight tilt of the head. Baekhyun's presses his lips together. If he smiles any wider, it'll rip through the corners.

"Maybe it's time you wore it flat," Baekhyun says. He massages Kyungsoo's scalp a little; it's incredibly soothing. "It would look good on you, I'm pretty certain."

 

 

They arrive at the Kolon Sporex Center earlier than expected, more than an hour too early before the match with Hanyoung High School starts. The holding area is comfortable enough to stay in and house a team of ten, and Yunho has gone around and distributed these weird snack bars that Jongdae has come up with. "I really wouldn't trust—" Jongdae cuts Chanyeol off even before he can finish, shoving the bar in Chanyeol's mouth, and Chanyeol keeps the smile on his lips despite the furrow of his eyebrows (and the beads of tears at the corners of his eyes).

"They're…" Baekhyun looks over his shoulder, then grins at Jongdae when he continues, " _different._ " Jongdae quickly comes over, trapping Baekhyun in a headlock. Kyungsoo waves off Baekhyun's calls for help and excuses himself to grab something to drink.

There are buses lined just outside the center, and people of all ages have begun to flock the stores just outside the courts. Kyungsoo makes his way to the nearest convenience store, and an arm cuts right through his path just as he reaches for the handle of the door to push the door open.

"Fancy seeing you here," comes a familiar voice from behind. Kyungsoo looks up, disoriented, eyes widening as the features of the stranger come into focus — dark hair worn up until the base of the ears, bangs falling over the left eye, a small scar just a few spaces shy of the left corner of the mouth. A mole under the right eye. A toothy grin. Acid surging up Kyungsoo's throat, leaving a nasty scar.

A strong swing to his right elbow, a sharp _crack!_ in tandem with the pain in his right arm.

He clenches and unclenches his fists.

"Jihoon… hyung."

Jihoon leans back a little, chuckling at the honorific. "I thought we've long dropped that," he says, then reaches out to ruffle Kyungsoo's hair. Kyungsoo cocks his head in the opposite direction and takes a step back. "Oh, wow, you used to love it when I did that."

" _Used to,_ " Kyungsoo mumbles. Some students pass them by — three little boys, the smallest of the three clutching onto the hem of the shirt of the one in front of him. _Don't do it, kid. Don't give in,_ Kyungsoo wants to say. He blinks back the needed distraction, turning his attention back on Jihoon. "I thought you were done with tennis."

"I changed my mind," Jihoon replies. He slides a hand up Kyungsoo's right arm, squeezing a little just before he reaches the elbow. "So how's this arm right here? Does it still hurt?"

"You have the nerve to feign concern—"

"I'm not faking anything." Jihoon cackles, laughter cracking as it peaks. Kyungsoo winces. "I'm still me, Kyungsoo, I'm still your hyung—"

Kyungsoo shakes off Jihoon's hand and takes a deep breath, shaky as he finishes, "You're _not_ my hyung. You're not the same Jihoon— _I don't know you._ "

"Wow." Jihoon shakes his head and wraps his fingers around Kyungsoo's left wrist, thumb rubbing circles on the underside. Kyungsoo tries to fight it, prying Jihoon's fingers from his skin, but Jihoon's much stronger — every touch, every contact burns. "Rude kid. You've changed, Do Kyungsoo, you really have—"

"Ya, Kyungsoo! Coach is looking for—"

Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder, a soft exhale escaping his lips as Baekhyun's figure comes into focus. He furrows his eyebrows slightly, signalling for help, and Baekhyun quickens his pace, runs the last few steps up until he's beside Kyungsoo. He hasn't stopped trying to free himself from Jihoon's grasp; Jihoon still has that crazy smile on his lips, and Kyungsoo's stomach still lurches at the very thought of it. He shakes the hand off one more time, with more power than the previous, until Jihoon catches his forearm with his free hand. "Stop fighting it, Kyungsoo."

"Let him go," Baekhyun says now, eyes dark, gaze sharp. Kyungsoo looks to his side, searching for a trace of warmth in Baekhyun's eyes, but he finds nothing but the cold stare. "I said—" Baekhyun grips Jihoon by the wrist and yanks the hand on Kyungsoo's forearm away with one swift move. " _Let him go._ "

"You make friends with rude kids now, Kyungsoo? This is what you've become after I left?"

"You didn't leave," Kyungsoo retorts, snarling. " _I_ decided to move away from you."

"You think you're so strong now, huh, with your friend here who can't even respect someone older than him?" Jihoon snorts. He loosens his grip on Kyungsoo's wrist, and Kyungsoo quickly shucks the hand away. The skin on his wrist is sore, burning a dull shade of red. "Who are you, even, huh? What's your name, kid?"

Baekhyun moves closer — one step forward, one step to the side and closer to Kyungsoo. "I'm Byun Baekhyun, and I'm his—"

"Doubles partner," Kyungsoo finishes. He reaches for Baekhyun's hand and squeezes it briefly. "Baekhyun is my doubles partner."

Jihoon scoffs. "Well."

Kyungsoo holds his gaze and tightens his grip on Baekhyun's hand until Baekhyun's yelps. Jihoon chuckles before turning on his heel, looking over his shoulder briefly before walking away. Kyungsoo lets his hand fall to his side when Jihoon's well out of sight, shoulders hunching. Baekhyun snakes an arm around his shoulder and he leans into the touch — for support, for comfort, for something he can't quite put into words.

"You okay?" Baekhyun asks after a while.

Kyungsoo opens his eyes and takes a deep breath before turning to Baekhyun. He can still feel his hands shaking. Baekhyun wraps his fingers around Kyungsoo's small fists, a blanket of warmth during a storm. "I'm good," he says. He swallows, choking down the screams lodged at his throat. "I'll be alright."

 

 

"You owe me an explanation," Baekhyun whispers as they approach the net. "I expect you to tell me everything later."

Kyungsoo shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he tightens his grip on his racket. Baekhyun demands private information like asking for yellow radish that a food server mistakenly forgot to include in his takeout. Like they're good enough friends that Kyungsoo _owes_ him an explanation for every single thing that he does, or thinks about doing, or thinks of at all. "Maybe I do," he replies, then switches to a wide smile, albeit awkward around the edges, as the umpire turns to them to ask for their serving preference. "Heads," he chimes at the same time as Baekhyun does. Baekhyun snickers like a little kid; Kyungsoo suppresses his laughter but ends up choking on his own giggles, instead.

"I'm serious, Soo. You have to tell me what that was about." Baekhyun taps his ass lightly with his racket. "I saved your life."

Kyungsoo exhales loudly. "After English hagwon."

"Over ice cream."

"Tteokbokki."

"The one across the school."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine, whatever. Just— Let's win this match."

Kyungsoo walks a few spaces back, close enough to the T that neither side will be left open, but far enough to give the illusion that there's a gaping hole between the places. He bends his knees, crouching low, and repeats the line in his head, again and again until it becomes clearer — Jihoon is no more. Baekhyun is my doubles partner. Baekhyun's my new doubles partner. Jihoon _doesn't exist—_

"Are we going with the 'ah-un' thing?" Baekhyun calls out from behind, and Kyungsoo just snorts as he shakes his head vigorously. He fixes his eyes on point in space where the shoulders of his opponents meet, lets his eyes outline the trace of their bodies, their stretch of their legs, the way they meet at the center of their court before taking their respective places, determination thick in their eyebrows and the way they give each other a thumbs up.

"On second thought, maybe we can," Kyungsoo says. He catches Baekhyun's grin from the corner of his eye.

Baekhyun serves.


	3. Chapter 3

**( deuce )**

The match with Hanyoung ends in a little under an hour, with Kyungsoo powering through their service games with a flat serve down the middle, or a volley straight to the opponent's feet. Baekhyun nails the last point with a backhand to the back of the court, landing just before the doubles line. They exchange a high-five when they approach the net, Baekhyun's fingers fitting between his own just before he lets go (and pulls Kyungsoo's hand down with his, in accord).

"We could've taken the match 6-4 6-3, you know," Baekhyun whispers, then quickly turns to the opponents with a smile even before Kyungsoo can ask why.

In the bus, Kyungsoo sits near the back of the bus, just passes by Chanyeol as Chanyeol looks up at him with a big smile. He planks his tennis bag just beside him and throws his head back, prepared to slip on his earplugs when Baekhyun takes his bag and stuffs it in the overhead compartment.

"You're not gonna talk?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head and prepares to plug on the headphones, thumb hovering the wheel of his iPod.

"You brushed Chanyeol off just a while ago; do you think he'll let you off the hook when he finally corners you?"

Kyungsoo exhales loudly and pulls off his earphones, coiling the wire before turning to Baekhyun. Baekhyun's still sweaty, bangs sticking to his forehead despite having freshened up a little earlier, but the adrenaline of winning a match is no longer there — there are dark circles under his eyes, more prominent towards the center. There's a short strand of white hair sticking up from his scalp.

Kyungsoo reaches up, slowly running his fingers through Baekhyun's hair, then tugs at the white strand lightly. A small scowl escapes Baekhyun's lips and Kyungsoo sinks back in his seat, chuckling.

"The guy you met back there, that was my—" _Past_ is an incredibly accurate term to use for Jihoon. He'd met Jihoon on court during the qualifiers to make it to the team roster, spent the next few months being mentored by Jihoon. The months leading to the tournaments had seen late nights with Jihoon, hitting balls and polishing shots until Kyungsoo's legs gave away. Some nights, they'd spent in Jihoon's house, with Jihoon teaching him advanced math as he slid a hand between Kyungsoo's thighs, curled the other hand at the base of Kyungsoo's nape. Some nights, they spent in the locker room, rubbing up against each other, clothed, still sticky from practice. Sticky from arousal and the heat of sex and the thrill of getting caught.

(And then some, they'd spent in the showers, Kyungsoo with his face buried in Jihoon's chest, Jihoon with a hand firm on the small of Kyungsoo's back, his other hand pumping their cocks together, slow and inexorable.)

"— former doubles partner," Baekhyun finishes. He shifts in his seat, lips pursed. His shoulders are hunched, curved in. There's a part of Baekhyun that he doesn't want to show Kyungsoo — Kyungsoo's fine with that. He can spend the next few months learning every curve of Baekhyun's body, every movement he makes, but Baekhyun knows very well that Kyungsoo only means business. "I know," Baekhyun adds after a while.

They sit in silence for the next few minutes, with Baekhyun drumming his fingers on his thigh and Kyungsoo studying the cracks of his skin, white patches that have dried up. _I love your hands,_ he remembers Jihoon saying, and he shuts his eyes tight, only opening them when Baekhyun speaks up to ask, "Did he ever—?"

"Ever what?"

Baekhyun shifts in his seat, one leg propped under all his weight. "Proposition you. Try to… take advantage of you or—" He erupts into a peal of laughter, awkward, rough around the edges, choking towards the end. "I'm sorry for asking, it probably makes you uncomfortable— You don't really have to answer that."

"We were more than just friends," Kyungsoo answers after a while. He turns to Baekhyun with a soft smile, walls crashing down as the upward tug falters, as a wave of exhaustion envelops him. "Or at least he was, to me. Seemed like I was just a toy for him."

"I know how it feels," Baekhyun mumbles. He stands for a moment, shifting in his seat, sitting on both feet now. "That's why I never took doubles—"

Kyungsoo leans back, lips parting slightly in a tiny 'o'. Baekhyun's cheeks burn a bright shade of red, and the color is creeping down his neck, up to his ears. "I'm sorry it had to happen to you," Kyungsoo offers, and he reaches out, hand stopping just a few inches shy of Baekhyun's neck. Baekhyun's head snaps up, eyes going wide, and Kyungsoo takes it as a green light, curling his hands at the back of Baekhyun's neck, fingers slowly unfurling as his eyes travel from Baekhyun's eyes, down to the tip of his nose, then the mole near the upper right lip.

Baekhyun tilts his head back, humming, purring like a fucking cat, an easy smile on his lips. "I'm sorry, too," he says, the furrow on his eyebrows easing, skin flushing against Kyungsoo's — the column of his neck exposed, vulnerable.

 

 

Kyungsoo has just come out from the showers when Baekhyun walks up to him, one hand holding up the towel wrapped around his waist and a request in the other — "Let's… hagwon?"

"Couldn't you have waited until I got dressed or—"

Baekhyun's gaze has long left Kyungsoo's own, travelling down his nose, the dip just underneath, his chin, then further south to his collarbones. "I couldn't—" Baekhyun's breath hitches, and he moves closer, two steps forward, until Baekhyun's face is too close for comfort that Kyungsoo can smell the stench of sweat and heat in Baekhyun's hair. "I couldn't wait," Baekhyun finishes, one hand rested on Kyungsoo's shoulder, thumb rubbing along the length of his collarbone.

And then Baekhyun takes a step back, like it's suddenly caught up to him — Chanyeol just beyond the door, Jongdae singing in the showers, the water pooled at Kyungsoo's feet. The team and school and the matches they have to play alongside each other. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, suddenly feeling bare from the loss of warmth, but then Baekhyun has done both of them a favor — you can't play on the same side of the court with a person whose body you'd let your eyes linger on for a second too long, can't think of rubbing against a teammate you're supposed to place your full trust in as you move across from one side of the court to the other, hope that he'd read your movements and hope to God that the gaping holes in your play will be covered. This isn't what they've trained for. This isn't what they're expected to do.

"Hagwon later," Kyungsoo replies. His lips are unbearably dry; Baekhyun's, pink and soft. He thinks of Baekhyun calling out shots, _To your right, no, your left! I'll take the one down the center. Don't choke, Kyungsoo. Don't—_ He keeps his mind on that one thing. "After you shower. We'll study idioms."

"Idiots?" Jongdae chimes as he steps out of the showers.

Baekhyun pulls away with an easy smile. His eyes are still on Kyungsoo. "Yeah, idiots."

The walk to the bus station is silent. There's nothing save for Baekhyun's steady humming, faint enough to be considered a whistle of the wind but loud enough for Kyungsoo to hear. He stays a few good spaces away from Baekhyun even as they engage in a conversation about the previous match. _Great backhand back there; that saved my ass. Can you try to toss the ball a little more to the left? It'll give you the extra kick you need for the serve._ He's pulled this off far too many times already; by this time, he isn't sure if he's just picking on Baekhyun's play or if he's running away from something, from his words, from himself.

"Our best match so far," Baekhyun comments. "I really enjoyed that one, y'know, even if—"

"Even if?"

Baekhyun stops in his tracks, smack in the middle of an intersection. Kyungsoo looks around for cars or an audience or for any clues, but Baekhyun keeps them hidden in the tight press of his lips. "Nothing," Baekhyun mumbles, then gets back on track, eyes fixed ahead of him, footsteps unhurried.

Kyungsoo catches up.

 

 

The most productive study session they've had was a few weeks back, in a coffee shop just a few blocks away from the school. They'd stayed there until nine, and Baekhyun had to excuse himself because he had to make sure his grandmother was tucked in bed by 10. "You spend half the studying time keeping _halmeoni_ awake when we're at my place," Baekhyun complains, the slightest hint of teasing in the undertone of his voice.

Today, they're headed to Kyungsoo's house, and Baekhyun's sitting on his hands and swinging his legs forward in the bus. "Stop moving," Kyungsoo mumbles, and Baekhyun only looks at him and sneers in response.

"What's your mom like?" Baekhyun asks after a while. Kyungsoo glances at his watch — around ten more minutes until they reach the bus stop, then a five minute walk to his house. Fifteen minutes until Baekhyun calms down and slips into his best behavior; Kyungsoo's mother will be enthralled.

"She's nice and pretty," Kyungsoo replies. He chuckles when Baekhyun snorts at him. "We're near. Just wait."

Waiting isn't one of Baekhyun's finer points. He rushes points half the time, catches the ball on the rise whenever he can. _More power,_ Baekhyun would always reason out, and Kyungsoo would tap his calves lightly, countering, _more stress on these muscles, too._ Then Baekhyun would just roll his eyes, attempt to slow down for the next few games only to bounce back with the same amount of enthusiasm and eagerness to quickly finish a match.

Baekhyun's head lolls on Kyungsoo's shoulder. Kyungsoo tries hard not to laugh, but his shoulders shake lightly, involuntarily.

Baekhyun is quiet from when they alight the bus up until they reach the doorstep of Kyungsoo's house. Three soft knocks, then hurried footsteps. "Oh, I thought it was Chanyeollie—" his mother says at first, and Baekhyun just laughs, shy, maybe even nervous, and he bows to Kyungsoo mother as he greets her.

"This is Baekhyun, my—" Kyungsoo looks to his side, meeting Baekhyun's gaze. He gulps hard. "Doubles partner."

"You're playing doubles again, son? I thought—"

Kyungsoo laughs a little. " _Umma,_ it's getting cold here outside."

The struggle with trying to keep his mother from spilling Kyungsoo's childhood exploits is great, and Baekhyun laughs at every single story, the sound measured and held back even as his mother tells Baekhyun about Kyungsoo falling off a bike and crying for a good ten minutes about it. "You never struck me as the crying type," Baekhyun tells him as they wash the dishes — Baekhyun had insisted that they clean up since Kyungsoo's mother had prepared a really delicious meal for them, and his mother just giggled in response.

"That was only one time," Kyungsoo grumbles.

"Oh yeah? But what about the other time, when you took a pomelo to your left foot and wailed about it—"

"Ugh, just— Stop!"

Baekhyun presses his hand against the head of the faucet, spraying water on Kyungsoo's face, and takes a handful of bubbles, throwing it at Baekhyun in thoughtless retaliation. "Why you—" And then there it is — the sharp rise of Baekhyun's shoulders, his voice peaking, Baekhyun cupping water in his hands and throwing the water bombs at Kyungsoo, hapless. The floor is a sad mess of water and soap and Kyungsoo slips, and he grabs onto the counter for support, and Baekhyun snakes a wet arm around his wait, his free hand pulling his right arm up.

Baekhyun's hands are cold; his smile, warm.

"Uh, thanks," Kyungsoo says when he finally feels his legs again, straightening up in an attempt to regain balance. He only ends up slipping yet again, and Baekhyun's reflexes are still as good as ever — a hand curled on the base of the neck this time, the other flat on the small of Kyungsoo's back.

Baekhyun rubs his thumb along the back of Kyungsoo's ear. Kyungsoo shivers.

"You're welcome."

 

In the middle of preparations for the match against Seoul Institute, Jongin expresses interest in getting back into doubles, the old swing of things. Yunho furrows his eyebrows at the onset of the news, but Jongin somehow manages to convince him to take some time out from making Chanyeol and Jongdae practice their services more.

"I'm actually really having fun in singles," Jongin says, each syllable drawn out as he meets Yunho in the eye. "But I think… I'm better off in doubles."

"If this is his way of telling that Kyungsoo and I suck, I'm asking for permission to kick him in the balls," Baekhyun says, raising a hand. Jongdae snorts beside him, and Chanyeol smiles but shoots him a look that more or less says _you can't just shut your mouth, can you?_ Kyungsoo clasps a hand on Baekhyun's shoulder more to hold him back than a display of support, but Baekhyun goes on about leaving behind their dreams of playing singles just so they could fill in for Sehun, _that brat_ , making sacrifices. "Fuck, Kyungsoo, you're supposed to be supporting me here, not elbowing me—"

"That's enough," Kyungsoo mumbles, pulling Baekhyun to his side by the wrist. Baekhyun wraps his arms around Kyungsoo's waist like it's the most natural thing in the world, and Kyungsoo flinches, eyes twitching as Baekhyun rests his chin on Kyungsoo's shoulder.

Baekhyun has been extra touchy these days — a hand on the small of the back, arms around the waist, chin tucked on Kyungsoo's shoulder as Yunho gives them pointers on improving their play. He'd tried shrugging off Baekhyun's touches the first few times, but it had become increasingly difficult with Baekhyun hovering all the fucking time. Even during study sessions, Baekhyun would have an arm around his shoulder, a hand on his knee, but only just — he'd let his touch linger, but never would he dip his fingers between Kyungsoo's thighs or in the waistband of Kyungsoo's tennis shorts. It was a choice between playing the game and taking up a different sport altogether, and he'd gotten used to it already. Tennis was safe. Baekhyun, too, brought no sort of harm at all.

Zitao walks closer to the middle, stopping just in front of Yunho. "I was actually going to ask if you could put me back in singles, coach," he says, voice barely above a whisper as he worries his bottom lip. Yunho gives him a long look then shakes his head, pulling both Zitao and Jongin close for a hug and to ruffle their hair.

"Is this the part where we start crying?" Jongdae whispers in Kyungsoo's ear. Baekhyun snorts faster than Kyungsoo can react.

From the corner of Kyungsoo's eye, he can see Chanyeol staring. He doesn't turn to his side, nor does he meet Chanyeol in the eye. He keeps his shoulders drawn back, dragged down by the weight of Baekhyun's body and his raucous laughter and his bright smile.

 

 

"They look like twins on court."

Kyungsoo nods, snatching some fries from the container Chanyeol is holding while he's still completely taken by the game unfolding in front of him. Taemin moves exceptionally well on court with a doubles partner despite having no doubles experience at all, and coming from an ankle injury, even. "Trust the young ones to be able to push themselves harder," he comments after a while, then steals the entire container, frowning down at the emptiness with Chanyeol's laughter as the accompanying track.

"Think about the hungry kids, Chanyeol. Think about _me—_ "

"I think," Chanyeol begins, the corner of his lips quirking up. "Someone's been thinking of you a lot. More than you think."

"There are too many _think's_ in that sentence. I think it's really confusing."

"You think so?"

Kyungsoo chuckles. "I _know_ so."

Chanyeol draws his knees close to his chest, resting his chin on his clasped hands. "I don't know what happened between the two of you, but it has made your dynamics infinitely better so I'm all for this change," he says after a while, eyes still fixed on Taemin and Jongin's match against the freshmen. "But if there's anything you wish to tell me, anything at all, you know that—"

"I saw Jihoon on the day of our match against Hanyoung," Kyungsoo replies. " _We_ saw Jihoon, Baekhyun and I. And he drove Jihoon away."

Chanyeol furrows his eyebrows. "How? I mean, Jihoon-hyung's much taller than Baekhyun—"

Kyungsoo laughs a little. "Oh, you know how Baekhyun is—"

The truth is, he doesn't. Baekhyun is a great tennis player, both in singles and in doubles. Baekhyun is driven, motivated, hates physics as much as he hates it when Jongdae calls him out on his half-assed serving. Baekhyun, despite his protests at sitting down to power through pages upon pages of lectures, excels in academics. Baekhyun touches like no one and nothing outside of that exact moment matters — Baekhyun's hand on his wrist, Baekhyun pulling him to his side, Baekhyun looking up at Jihoon to tell him to back off, _he's my doubles partner, and you have no right to do this to him. Let him go, Jihoon. Let him go._ There's still a bit of Baekhyun that he hasn't seen, hidden beneath all the laughter and sharp words. Say there are three balls — one is Chanyeol, the other is Jongdae, and the last one is Kyungsoo — and Baekhyun has to pick, Baekhyun won't allude to his choice. It will all be in his head. Kyungsoo won't even be able to tell if he even stands a chance.

Baekhyun is also caring, selfless, putting his grandmother's needs before his glaring need to study and improve his grades in English. Baekhyun rarely ever brings people to his house — "He thinks it's too much work, bringing his friends over," Kyungsoo remembers Baekhyun's grandmother mentioning one time. "But you're his _doubles partner_ , and you teach him for free, so I guess he's willing to go the extra mile for you."

"— weird. He's weird," Kyungsoo finally says.

"Fearless," Chanyeol adds. "And a bit crazy."

Kyungsoo laughs — snickers, more like it — and slaps Chanyeol on the arm hard enough to make Chanyeol fall to his side. Chanyeol doesn't fight back, but he does yelp for effect, eyebrows furrowed in his best imitation of being in pain. _This is how Jongdae looks when I hit him in the ass with my racket. This is how you look when I catch you off-guard._ "Ridiculous," Kyungsoo adds, and leans against Chanyeol as he evens out his breathing, beads of tears at the corners of his lips.

"You like him," Chanyeol says, like it's a universal truth.

"Enough for me to not complain about playing matches with him, yes."

"But still—" Chanyeol rests a hand on Kyungsoo's hair and ruffles it. "You like him."

Kyungsoo shrugs, doesn't give an answer outright, and just keeps his eyes trained on the bodies moving in front of him — Taemin and Jongin, pairing up against two freshmen who'd make formidable foes, Baekhyun on the other side of the court, smiling at him with his eyes like greeting him, _Good morning, partner. Hagwon later?_

Enough for him not to decline any of Baekhyun's requests for more English hagwon sessions, yes. He likes Baekhyun enough.

 

 

Sehun sits in the bleachers during the match against Seoul Institute. Jongin's more jittery than the usual when he sets foot on the court, throwing occasional glances over his shoulder — past Taemin and straight at Sehun as if asking, _is this good enough?_ Sehun laughs to himself, mostly, throughout the match, leans over to where Kyungsoo is to whisper, "Look at him, he's so fucking nervous," balling his left fist everytime Jongin serves a nice ace or seals the rally with a sharp, clean shot to the corners.

"No double faults the entire game. I'm impressed," Sehun says as he watches Jongin and Taemin approach the net, shaking hands with their opponents and dropping the standard praise on each other's game.

"Threatened, you mean," Kyungsoo comments.

"Hmm?"

Sehun isn't the hardest person to read — he gives himself away rather easily in the pretense of serious tennis. The slight rise of Sehun's eyebrows means he's interested to hear what Kyungsoo has to say; the peculiar upward curve means he has an inkling of what it is, but he isn't quite sure yet. The light squinting of the eye is the challenge, setting the ball for the right serve; Kyungsoo's prepared to return the ball right on the line, at Sehun's blind side.

Kyungsoo waits for the sharp intake of breath and the loud exhale. With a nod, he answers, "If it makes you feel better, you're still his first choice when it comes to doubles partners."

Sehun's chest heaves, shoulders falling, and an easy smile surfaces on his lips. Sehun's eyes flit from Kyungsoo's own to something over his shoulder — Jongin and Taemin approaching Whimoon's box. "Excuse me," he whispers, grabbing Kyungsoo's shoulder as he gets up from his seat and meets Jongin as soon as they arrive.

"Focus, partner," comes Baekhyun's voice to his left.

He chuckles, doesn't even bother to look to his side before pressing his palm flat on Baekhyun's face. " _You_ focus."

They get up simultaneously, bounce on their soles to warm themselves up. Baekhyun hits the back of his shoes with his racket at the same time that Kyungsoo does. If Baekhyun ever notices, he doesn't call it out; instead, he walks ahead, straight to the courts, and Kyungsoo trails him, spine straight, chin up.

He meets Baekhyun's gaze before he takes his position near the net. He smiles.

 

 

Seoul Institute has got to have one of the cleanest, most fast-paced games Kyungsoo has seen in years. Junsu and Junho, the twins they're facing, are synchronized in a way they can only dream of. The harmony in their movement isn't something you get with weeks of training alongside each other; it's a lifelong training that results to this never of synchronicity. "This is unfair; they're twins! We're not even joined at the hip!" Baekhyun exclaims three games into the set, and Kyungsoo simply waves off his worries, whispering, "Well then, we'll just have to try harder and look for an opening."

6-6 now in the last set, 26-27, and they still haven't found the opening.

The good thing about the match is that neither teams have dropped a game in this set just yet; the bad thing is that the twins have each other's movements memorized down to the last detail that despite the strictly measured, calculated nature of their playing style, they can still bounce back from a surprise trick shot Baekhyun aims right on the line of the doubles court, or an unexpected drop shot from Kyungsoo. "I'm scared," Baekhyun confesses just before Kyungsoo heads to his side of their court. "Kyungsoo, I can feel my legs, they're gonna give away any moment now."

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. "After serving, move to the front at once. Focus on what you can reach and don't move around that much. I'll take the baseline. I'll give you five minutes."

"But Kyungsoo, you don't—" Baekhyun's eyebrows are furrowed. "How can you be sure—"

"I said—" Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at Baekhyun, and Baekhyun leans back. "I'll give you five minutes. We switch back to our standard formation after that."

"But Kyungsoo—"

He rests a hand on Baekhyun's shoulder and squeezes it lightly. "Hey. Trust me."

Baekhyun's eyes widen. Seven out of ten times, this means there's an incoming ball that he won't be able to return, or Chanyeol's just behind Kyungsoo, waiting to kick them out of the courts for overtraining. The last three, Kyungsoo can't tell; he's long given up on deciphering all of Baekhyun's facial expressions and reading between the lines. When there's anything that Baekhyun wants, all he has to do is ask.

"I can't promise to recover in five minutes."

Kyungsoo laughs a little. "Try to score as many drop shots as you can, then. I'll take care of the rest."

Kyungsoo walks back to the service area, bouncing the ball with his right hand. The last time he played at the baseline was in singles; for doubles, with Jihoon. Jihoon had pulled the same stint on him before, for their match against Hanyoung two years back. They were in doubles one, and Chanyeol and Jongdae had lost then, but only by a very slim margin. Kyungsoo's knees ached and his calves were sore. His shorts stuck to his thighs from all the sweat he'd shed throughout the match. _I'll take all the shots in front; just get your game back in five minutes. I need you, Kyungsoo,_ Jihoon had said, and Kyungsoo crouched low, knees bent, body facing forward as he gripped his racket tight in his right hand.

"Ten minutes!" Kyungsoo calls out. Baekhyun nods, firm and resolute, and gets down on one knee.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and tosses the ball in the air, slightly to the left. He swings his arm from left to right, putting in all the power he has to add an extra kick to the serve. Junho — or is it Junsu? With the blur of sweat in his eyes, Kyungsoo can't tell anymore — returns it, but the ball catches on the net, tips over just lightly and heads straight to the ground. Baekhyun goes for the save and returns with a backhand, just a light flick of the wrist. Junsu catches it, aims a volley at Kyungsoo's feet, and Kyungsoo returns with a feeble lob.

Baekhyun follows the ball with his eyes. He scrunches his nose. "Ah!" Kyungsoo yells, and he catches the slightest change in Baekhyun's features before Baekhyun looks straight ahead again, bent low to cover all shots aimed near the net.

Junho smashes the ball just a few inches shy of Baekhyun's area of responsibility. Kyungsoo slides to the right, quick to recover, and aims a backhand cross-court, deep enough that it bounces off the court as soon as it hits the doubles line. Kyungsoo balls his right fist. Baekhyun doesn't look over his shoulder. 27-27.

Kyungsoo serves again, a flat serve this time, and bounces on the balls of his feet as soon as he hits the ball. Junho returns with an easy forehand that Baekhyun intercepts, hitting back with a double-handed backhand. Junsu counters with another volley, and this time Kyungsoo's prepared enough to take a few sidesteps so he can hit the ball better, at an easier angle. He tries a backhand down the middle — Junho counters with a forehand. He attempts a forehand to the back this time, and Junho moves back as fast as he can, hitting a lob. "Un!" Baekhyun says, and Kyungsoo keeps his eyes fixed on the twins at Baekhyun prepares to hit a smash, right arm pulled back at a nice angle that Kyungsoo's sure Baekhyun's shot will be unreturnable even if Junsu tries hard to counter with a backhand.

The tension in Baekhyun's arm eases and he taps the ball forward, hitting a drop shot. The ball rolls down the net on the opposite side nicely, and Kyungsoo can see Junsu seething in frustration. 28-27.

A change of service for the next point. Kyungsoo approaches the net, giving Baekhyun a pat on the back. "Let's play," he whispers in Baekhyun's ear, and he retreats back to the baseline. He can still feel Baekhyun's gaze at the back of his head and, when he turns on his heel, Baekhyun's eyes are still fixed on him, a small smile on his lips. The furrow of Baekhyun's eyebrows ask, _are you sure you want to do this?_ ; the light in his eyes, _do you trust me?_ Kyungsoo responds with a firm nod and a thumbs up before twirling his racket in his hand, body swaying from side to side.

"Quiet, please," the umpire says. To Junho, he says, "Please, carry on with the serve. Whimoon, you'll receive a violation of you take too long to regroup."

Kyungsoo snorts but flashes a smile in the umpire's direction. There won't be any need for that anymore.

Junho tosses the ball straight up, bends his knees really low as he waits for the ball to fall right into place. Junho stretches his right arm out and swings it forward, creating topspin on the ball and sending it right above the middle of the net where the net is the lowest. Baekhyun moves to his side, and Kyungsoo moves to the left to strike a forehand, slightly to the right to counter with a backhand, left and right and left again until he can see Baekhyun tapping his foot. Any minute now.

Junsu returns with a forehand a few spaces shy of the T of the court. "Un!" Baekhyun yells, then drags the tip of his right foot to the left, torso twisted and knees bend as he prepares to take the shot with a backhand. Baekhyun approaches the incoming ball, catching it even before the rise, and strikes it with just enough power — any harder and he'd risk aiming it well outside of the court. The ball lands at the back, just as Junho approaches the net, both of Seoul Institute now close to the center of the entire court, and Baekhyun lets out a strangled cry as he pumps his fist in the air, then turns around to scoop Kyungsoo in his arm and twirl him around.

"People are watching—" Kyungsoo mumbles, but Baekhyun just shakes his head. So Kyungsoo keeps his eyes closed and his ears wide open, the sound of cheering drowning out the loud thumping — both in his chest and Baekhyun's — Baekhyun whispering in his ear, "We did it, we did it, we _finally_ did it!"

 

 

Zitao nearly grabs the win for his match, if not for a rain delay — "Rain? In summer?" — that completely ruins Zitao's momentum. 6-4 7-6(12) isn't exactly the worst result, but Zitao spends the next few minutes succeeding the end of his match curled up in his seat, legs drawn close to his chest as he mumbles, "I hate the rain."

"The rain is evil. It's so mean!" Jongdae quips as he runs a hand up and down Zitao's back. Zitao looks over his shoulder to shoot Jongdae a sharp look, but Jongdae only beams at him, nuzzles Zitao's hair with his nose as Zitao half scowls, half grumbles.

"Gonna clean up your mess!" Chanyeol calls out to Zitao, and Zitao only wails even more.

Sehun accosts Kyungsoo once he returns from the debriefing with Yunho. He slides between him and Baekhyun, and Baekhyun slaps Sehun on the thigh just as Sehun says, "So, doubles."

"That's what we played earlier," Kyungsoo replies. He uncaps his water bottle and gulps down a fourth of the liquid. "How was it, by the way?"

Sehun slips into one of his _states_ where he props a balled fist under his chin, furrows his eyebrows, and then lets a smile tug up the corners of his lips. "You were both having fun, save for the last set," Sehun comments. "Baekhyun-hyung was in pain—"

"It was a long tie-breaker."

"—because he's not practicing enough, I'm assuming." Sehun turns to his right, back facing Baekhyun as Baekhyun pounds his fists on Sehun's arm. "But you… you're at the top of your game, hyung."

Kyungsoo chuckles. "It was a difficult match, yeah, but it's not any different from my performance in the past few games."

"The swing, the footwork, _your form—_ Hyung, I know it when I see it, and you're moving differently these days, like you're dancing on court and really, really enjoying the sport."

"I love tennis, you know that."

"I know you like tennis, yeah." Sehun purses his lips. "But _love?_ I don't know, you always looked as if you were trying to one-up someone or something, that's why you played. But now…"

"Now?"

Sehun shakes his head like Kyungsoo will never get it even if he dissects each and every word of his statement. "I don't know how exactly to describe it, but you're playing better than before."

Kyungsoo replays the key points of the past few games — lunging to the net for a well-timed drop shot, rushing to the corners to aim a forehand down the line because he knows, just from looking at Baekhyun, that Baekhyun won't be able to hit a clean backhand from where he is, forcibly taking matters into his own hands by putting his foot forward in the middle of a rally and hitting a volley. Baekhyun flashing a v-sign at him and saying, _well, I really needed that._

"Thanks, I guess?" Kyungsoo says. "At least all the hard work's paying off."

Sehun bumps his hips into Kyungsoo's side as he scoots closer, farther away from Baekhyun who's now cheering Chanyeol on, waving his racket and Zitao's in the air. "I won't be able to play again soon, not in the next few months," Sehun tells him, and he can't tell if he's relieved, sad, guilty at the mere thought of Sehun's recovery taking too long. At best, he's just being optimistic. At least he and Baekhyun are filling Sehun and Jongin's doubles shoes like they're experts in the field. At worst, he's confused.

"Don't rush it," Kyungsoo replies, instead, and snakes an arm around Sehun to pull him close. He means to say, _there's no need to rush. I'm enjoying this, so don't let it end — not yet._ "Recovery takes time."

 

 

The bad weather strikes again just in time for Chanyeol's match to end, an easy 6-3 6-4 victory over Seoul Institute's Lee Howon. Chanyeol's already soaked yet still chatting up Howon at the net, gesticulating something that can either mean _I like that backhand of yours; really put a lot of strain on my left leg_ or simply _I like your legs_. Jongdae's tapping his foot lightly, the closest he can come to being impatient despite the smile on his lips. Sehun, Jongin, and Taemin are in a corner, coaxing Zitao out of his slump, and Baekhyun's got a chin propped on Kyungsoo's shoulder, vibrations tickling Kyungsoo's skin as Baekhyun hums some unknown sing in his ear.

"Oh hey, can I ask a favor?" Baekhyun asks. Kyungsoo makes a small, non-committal sound, and he catches the lightest laughter slipping from Baekhyun's lips. "Well, you see, we have an exam of projectile motion and I think I'll need some help with the practice problem sets…"

"So you're saying…?"

"What I'm saying is—" Baekhyun stands straight, hands on Kyungsoo's shoulders as he grins. "You're gonna teach me physics tonight."

"Sounds kinky, hyung!" Taemin calls out from a few feet away, but quickly clasps his hand over his mouth when Kyungsoo looks at him, eyebrow raised.

With Baekhyun, there are no requests, only orders and mandates disguised in a thick cloak of a bright grin. Baekhyun is abrasive — a slice serve cutting through the air, landing hard and quick on the line, a sturdy backhand counter to a heavy smash. It's his way or the highway, and the road Baekhyun treads is anything but safe; it's a maze with secret pathways. In a corner there's a door that says _this way out_ , but Kyungsoo knows all too well that it's supposed to read _this way if you want in, if you want to dig a deeper grave for yourself._

"What gives?" Kyungsoo asks once they start walking to the bus. Baekhyun hasn't stopped humming the same song under his breath; Kyungsoo hasn't stopped questioning his decisions in life.

"I'll buy ice cream on the way."

"To my house, you mean."

Baekhyun turns to him, nose scrunches, the corners of his lips tugged down. "But—"

"Thanks for the ice cream, _partner,_ " Kyungsoo replies, a smug smile on his lips. He ruffles Baekhyun's hair and lets his hand fall to his side when Baekhyun starts to lean into the touch and, from the corner of his eye, he can see Chanyeol's stare lingering far longer than it should.

 

 

Physics hagwon at home means drawing trajectory parallelisms from ball movement and a tennis match, means Kyungsoo falling asleep on his desk at half past three in the morning while Baekhyun powers through a problem set on projectile motion. He stirs at around four in the morning, a stinging pain in his right cheek that he realizes soon enough is because of an open pen and some paper clips.

He blinks a few times, waiting for his vision to recover. A few more seconds, then the image of a sleeping Baekhyun comes into focus — hair sticking to his cheek, his forehead. Pimples painting Baekhyun's skin a bright shade of red. The shiny tip of his nose, Baekhyun's fingers almost falling off of Kyungsoo's knee. Baekhyun's lips slightly parted, lower lip protruding, a small scar at the middle. Drool on his desk and at the corner of Baekhyun's lips.

He takes a deep breath.

The last time he's been this close to Baekhyun was a week or so ago, fresh from the showers with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Baekhyun asked about hagwon, and Kyungsoo asked about the breach of personal space. Baekhyun ran his thumb across Kyungsoo's collarbones, skin hot and sticky from a match, and Kyungsoo stood there just waiting — for time to pass, for Chanyeol to arrive, for _something_ to happen. Possibilities were endless. Now, with Baekhyun just a breath, a decision away, there's no room for escape, nothing holding him back from leaning in to finish kissing Baekhyun but the strands of doubt tying his wrists to the posts of his desk.

Baekhyun stirs a little, chews on air. His lips end up in a cute, peculiar curve. Kyungsoo leans back, then gets up. Class starts in a few hours; there's no time for dilly-dallying. 

He wakes Baekhyun up around thirty minutes after, once he's done freshening up and he's slipped into his school uniform. "You should take a shower. You can borrow my clothes," he tells Baekhyun, gesturing at the school polo and pants folded on his bed.

"How are the problem sets?" Baekhyun asks as he rubs his eyes free of sleep.

Baekhyun keeps worrying his bottom lip. Kyungsoo makes a mental note to shuffle that thought at the very back of his mind — but maybe later. "All correct. Now get your ass moving. We can't be late."

Baekhyun has the energy of a five-year-old over breakfast, engaging Kyungsoo's mother in a conversation about great centerpieces for table set ups and great coffee beans for grinding and eventual brewing, while his mother humors Baekhyun with some more of Kyungsoo's childhood stories. "I actually wanted a girl as a second child but—" His mother looks at him, chuckles, then ducks behind her tea cup.

"I guess you'll have to settle with Kyungsoo here getting the girls, hmm?"

Kyungsoo buries his face in his hands. "I should've never introduced you to each other."

Baekhyun drags him to the very back of the bus once they hop on, and claims ownership over the window seat. He means to go sight-seeing, saying, "I don't come here often, y'know," but ends up sleeping like a log on Kyungsoo's shoulder, one arm circling Kyungsoo's own. Kyungsoo keeps his eyes fixed on the rows of seats in front of him, the back of the heads of the people occupying the seats, anything but the invitation written on Baekhyun's lips, Baekhyun breathing hot air on his skin.

He earns a few stares when he checks on Baekhyun, his mouth dangerously close to Baekhyun's forehead.

To anyone who doesn't know them, they probably look like childhood best friends who have grown with each other, grown out of the awkwardness of being two male bodies pressed flush against each other and into the comfort of the warm contact of two thighs in a crowded bus. To people who know, they'd be laughing at Kyungsoo silly for being helpless and defenseless in the face of a sleeping Byun Baekhyun. Jongdae would probably laugh at him silly, and Sehun would go, _ah, so this is what you mean by being doubles partners._ That's part of the deal, he guesses — spending so much time with each other that you start mimicking each other's quirks, mannerisms. Growing into one skin, one style, one game.

"Get up, kid," Kyungsoo whispers when the bus comes to a halt. "Come on, get up, we need to get moving—"

Baekhyun's eyes flutter and he makes these unintelligible sounds, lips dangerously pressing on the skin of Kyungsoo's neck. Kyungsoo closes his eyes, recalibrates — he thinks of the sound of tennis balls bouncing off the surface, thinks of each ball hitting the sweet spot of the racket, thinks of a nice backswing, of Baekhyun bending his knees when he prepares to do a kick serve, of Baekhyun ready with a high-five at the end of a well-executed forehand winner.

"We're here?" Baekhyun asks. Kyungsoo can feel Baekhyun smiling against his skin. He nods, and Baekhyun's hand slides down, fingers wrapping around Kyungsoo's tiny fist before he lets go.

The setting of the ball — Baekhyun getting up from his seat. The contact of the strings against the ball — Baekhyun with his hand on the small of Kyungsoo's back. The anticipation of watching the ball speed across the court, past the net — Baekhyun fastening his hands on Kyungsoo's hips as he steadies himself, still disoriented from his sleep.

Kyungsoo misses the serve for a second time. Baekhyun's grinning at the other end of the court. Double fault.

 

 

With the match against Dong-ah Institute just around the corner, Yunho cuts practice hours by half. Jongdae's the only one who grumbles in retaliation; even Chanyeol's glad that they'll be getting two hours off from the courts. "We practice the morning of the match, though," Yunho reminds them, and Baekhyun pretends to wail and choke down a sob as Jongin erupts into a peal of laughter beside him.

"I've been sleeping at 3 a.m. everyday," Chanyeol mumbles on their way back to the lockers. "Can I just say, I hate physics. I know I love the sciences, but I really hate physics right now."

"Kyungsoo's good at physics," Baekhyun mentions. He pulls his shirt over his head and shoots his bundled up shirt in his bag, like basketball. Jongdae mutters, _and it's a three!_

"Kyungsoo's good at everything, but he's already busy with a lot of things, as it is." Chanyeol reaches over to ruffle Kyungsoo's hair, and runs to where Jongdae is and uses Jongdae as a shield even before Kyungsoo can attempt to pull his shorts down. "I'm just saying, we're all seniors and we've been studying our asses off day and night _on top_ of tennis."

Kyungsoo meets Chanyeol in the eye, a smirk flaunted on the corner of his lips. "I'm telling coach."

Jongin returns from his shower, shaking his head as he says, "What are you guys, twelve?"

Baekhyun and Jongdae disappear beneath the mist of the hot shower, and Kyungsoo takes Jongdae's place on the benches, feet propped under his legs. Chanyeol's halfway through removing his own shirt when he lets his hands drop to his sides and slips beside Kyungsoo, one hand on Kyungsoo's knee, thumb rubbing lightly over the bone.

"You're good at physics?"

Kyungsoo shrugs and rubs his eyes. "I'm good at everything; you said so, yourself."

"Yeah, but—" Chanyeol cocks his head in the direction of the shower. There's a brief moment of silence until Jongin and Taemin slip out of the locker room, bags slung over their shoulders as they say their goodbyes. "I thought you were only teaching him English."

Kyungsoo laughs a little. "So when did you start playing the role of the jealous best friend, huh?"

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, and a big smile surfaces on his lips as he shakes his head. This is Chanyeol's default reaction to things he can't deny, or to something he finds plain amusing — today, it can be a mix of the two because Kyungsoo has never put the words _jealous_ and _Chanyeol_ in one sentence. Kyungsoo finds himself cackling, as well.

"Fine, fine, guilty as charged," Chanyeol confesses.

Kyungsoo keeps his eyes on the formless cloud of mist just a few feet from them, and Chanyeol sways from side to side to the tune of a song only he can hear. Kyungsoo drums his fingers on the bench, then looks to his side to shoot glance at Chanyeol. "Did you want help on physics?" he asks after a while, and Chanyeol shakes his head, chuckles without sound, shoulders shaking.

"So, you like him."

Kyungsoo snorts. "No? Whatever gave you the impression—"

Chanyeol places a hand on the crown of Kyungsoo's hair, smiling. "That wasn't a question."

Chanyeol says no more, just looks at him with his big, glimmering eyes being pulled down by the dark circles underneath, with a silly grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "You should learn how to listen, even if that ah-un technique was really good," Chanyeol comments, then retreats his hand and sits upright when Baekhyun and Jongdae emerge from the showers, laughing.

"You two are next," Baekhyun says, and Kyungsoo gets up from his seat, his towel in tow. Chanyeol pinches him in his side as he walks past Jongdae, and Baekhyun curls his fingers at the base of Kyungsoo's nape when they meet in the middle. Kyungsoo's breath hitches, and the Baekhyun's cold fingers reach up, gently massaging his scalp. He tries not to lean into the touch.

And then there's the splash of Jongdae's feet when Jongdae hands Chanyeol's towel over, saying, "Who even showers without a towel?", Baekhyun's hand trembling, a tiny jerk in Kyungsoo's body jolting him back to reality.

"I'll be back," Kyungsoo mumbles, then walks past Baekhyun, silent even as he turns on the shower. He closes his eyes, tilting his head up so he can feel the warm water on his face, so he can wash away the image of Baekhyun's soft features, the feeling of Baekhyun's fingers tracing patterns on his skin, the steady, loud thumping in his chest out of sync with the measured bounce of the ball off the surface of the court.

 

 

The evening before the match against Dong-ah, Chanyeol calls for a team meeting by the tteokbokki cart. Chanyeol has done this with Jongdae, Baekhyun, and Kyungsoo far too many times that, by now, the vendor has gotten used to all the tennis terms they use, even expressing interest in having his son study tennis.

" _Haraboji!_ I'll sponsor his high school education if he joins the tennis club," Jongdae says, halfway through his second serving of tteokbokki. Jongin slips a hand over Jongdae's shoulder to steal some food, and Jongdae hits Jongin in the gut with his elbow. "I'll even teach him how to play tennis!"

"I'll feed him," Baekhyun offers, then takes one slice of tteok, poking Kyungsoo's lips with it. Kyungsoo parts his lips after much prodding. "Not like that. Maybe in a nicer manner. Kyungsoo just loves playing hard-to-get."

Kyungsoo snatches the toothpick from Baekhyun and steals a tteok for himself. "Only sometimes," he retorts, beaming at Baekhyun. Baekhyun only shakes his head in response.

They disperse after the quick meeting, with Chanyeol reminding everyone to _please get some rest_. To the seniors, he says, _nah, not you guys._. He sticks a tongue out at Jongdae, but takes Jongdae in his arms when Jongdae attempts to land multiple punches on his arm. Kyungsoo waves at the two before leaving, then turns to a silent Baekhyun beside him, asking, "Same bus, right?"

"Yeah, same old route," Baekhyun replies. The smile on his lips is blinding. Baekhyun looks around for an audience before hooking an arm around Kyungsoo's shoulder, hand squeezing Kyungsoo's arm lightly.

 

 

"Well, aren't you home early!" is his mother's greeting when he arrives at the doorstep. 

He has his bag over his shoulder and a plastic filled with unnecessary energy drinks in his free hand. Yunho had given each of the regulars a "championship energy pack" of their own, telling them to drink one can before tackling their lessons for the night, but reminding them to turn in before midnight so that they can wake up refreshed. "Work hard, but don't overwork yourselves," Kyungsoo remembers Yunho saying, stare lingering longer than the usual on Sehun. "Big day tomorrow!"

"Coach told us to get lots of rest for tomorrow's match," he replies, bowing at her, then walks past the gates. He removes his rubber shoes and slips into his slippers, and his mother takes the plastic bag from him, giggling as she does so.

"Oh, so that's why Baekhyunnie isn't around."

Kyungsoo laughs a little. "Since when did you two become close?"

"Well…" His mother takes the cans out one by one, then arranges them inside the fridge. "He's easy to get along with, and he's a nice kid. Very respectful, too. I'm glad you have a friend like him."

"Chanyeol's nicer than him, _umma._ "

She chuckles. "I could tell. Chanyeol's an _angel._ But—"

"But?"

His mother pauses for a while, then turns around to get a soup bowl from the dish rack. She doesn't continue until she's poured soup in the bowl, saying, "He makes you laugh and smile in a way Chanyeollie doesn't."

He stops midway through reaching for the glass of water nearby and looks up at her, straight into her eyes. He's never had to play against his mother before — or anyone from his family, for that matter. His father's much too busy traveling around the world, gaining new investors for his business; his brother has never been into sports, and probably wouldn't ever be. He's busy building a family now; he hasn't even been home in years. "That's—" Weird. Crazy. Possibly fucked up. "I don't know what you mean," he continues. He wraps his fingers around the glass.

"I'm not the best at reading people, Kyungsoo, but he makes you happy. You… come home with him in tow and you study until the whee hours of the morning, but I've never heard you complain about staying up too late. With Chanyeol, you probably would have kicked him out at midnight and made him sleep on the couch."

"Chanyeol would sneak back into my room, anyway," Kyungsoo says, laughing a little. His mother chuckles.

"He would, he would," she says.

They eat in silence, with his mother only occasionally dropping stories on seeing a particular friend of hers for the first time in a long time, or that great bargain she got that ended up with her bringing home two whole boxes of pomelo. Kyungsoo clears the table right after they finish, set on covering all the chapters he has to read tonight by midnight, and his mother interrupts him halfway through taking the last bowl off the table.

"Kyungsoo?"

"Yes, _umma?_ "

"Just know that… whatever makes you happy, I will accept." She fumbles with the hem of her blouse, an indiscernible smile on her lips. "It might take a while but…"

" _Umma,_ please—"

"This is the happiest I have seen you in years, Kyungsoo. I won't let you throw away something like this, someone like Baekhyun, just because it's… weird."

He takes a deep breath and puts the bowl back down to take her in his arms, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He thinks of Baekhyun's hand on his nape, Baekhyun's toothy grin, Baekhyun's annoying voice during tennis practice. Baekhyun's half-lidded eyes and lazy smile, Bakehyun greeting him as if singing, _good morning._ "Thank you," he says, voice barely above a whisper, and he feels the light upward tug of his mother's cheek, his mother rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back.

He thinks of the championship tomorrow, of balls bouncing on the court, of teamwork and winning the match and leading the team to victory.

"Thank you, _umma,_ " he says again, this time louder.

He thinks of Baekhyun.

 

 

"This is probably not the best pep talk," Chanyeol begins, then looks over his shoulder before continuing, "but the players of Dong-ah have a reputation for playing dirty."

"Creepy," is the only thing Zitao says. Taemin shrugs in response, and Jongin moves closer, hooking an arm around Chanyeol's shoulder as he eggs Chanyeol to go on. Jongdae watches from a few spaces away, outside the small circle of the youngest among the regulars. Baekhyun excuses himself to go to the bathroom, saying he's _gonna pee in his pants, so fucking nervous,_ and Kyungsoo makes sure to hit him on the back of his head before he runs off.

"Where did you get the news?" Kyungsoo asks.

"Well, I got to talk to Hanyoung's captain a few days back — no, I'm not making friends with the enemy — and he said he saw Dong-ah's most recent match, the one before ours. One of the players hits people — as in the players themselves, not the surface or anything. The singles two player of the school they were up against took a shot to the ankle _and_ the right wrist."

Kyungsoo shudders. "There _are_ people who play tennis rough."

Jongdae scoffs, shaking his head as he rubs circles on Kyungsoo's arm. "You'd be surprised, Soo. You'd be surprised."

Baekhyun returns to Yunho running the team through player profiles and Chanyeol reiterating that everyone has to be extra careful, that they don't have the leisure of playing just for the sake of it. Jongin heads the team chant, and soon the players are called to the courts for the introductions and standard handshakes. "That one," Chanyeol whispers in Kyungsoo's ear, and Kyungsoo's eyes land on a dark-haired guy about the same height as Jongdae, with a build that resembles Jongin's.

"Doesn't look like the type," Kyungsoo replies.

Chanyeol snorts. "Exactly."

Doubles two starts with Taemin and Jongin sharing a hug before the coin toss. "Australian right off the bat?" Baekhyun comments from beside Kyungsoo, and yet he leans forward, clasped hands propped under his chin as he gives a running commentary of the first few games.

Taemin's at the top of his game, Kyungsoo thinks. He's been hitting nothing but nice, clean forehands for the first five games, and his first serve percentage is just a little below 80%. Jongin's moving much faster, too, sliding from one side of the court to another with relative ease as he catches balls left and right, earning points as he aims at the corners, right on the doubles line just before the ball tips out. 4-3 now in their favor, and Taemin and Jongin are hardly breathing heavily.

Beside Kyungsoo, Jongdae gulps hard. "This isn't looking so good."

"Huh?"

"Ah—" Baekhyun leans back, hands dropping to his sides. "Whatever happened to his back injury? Did he have that pulled muscle checked?"

"No idea," Chanyeol comments. "But—"

"The pats on the lower back weren't just for all of Jongin's great shots," Kyungsoo comments. "He hasn't been leaning forward that much when he receives, either. And you know how he plays."

"Knees bent low, chest forward," Baekhyun finishes. "Because Taemin hits balls so dangerously low, they always look as if they'd hit the net."

"Fault!" comes the linesman's call.

The first set stretches to a deciding tie-breaker, with Jongin's first serve percentage going down steadily as the match drags. Taemin works hard to cover the holes in Jongin's play and reach for the shots that Jongin can't, but Taemin is only human — his thighs will burn and his knees will get weak and soon even his will-power will crack. Taemin takes a shot to the foot and brushes it off like a mosquito bite, powering through the succeeding games, and Jongin aims backhand volleys down the line whenever he can.

The result isn't such a pitiful loss — a tie-breaker is always something to be proud of, especially during a championship — but Jongin's smile is still awkward around the edges when he meets the opponents at the net. Taemin's taking it better with a grin that reaches his eyes and the light squeeze of the hand. From where Kyungsoo is, he can see the sharp rise of Yunho's shoulders, the gradual fall, the small smile on Yunho's lips before he welcomes the two back into the box with a warm hug.

"Great game back there," Chanyeol says, going for a high-five. Jongin buries his face in Chanyeol's chest, instead, sobs light and almost inaudible as Chanyeol whispers in his ear, "It's okay. You did great! It was a win, think of it as a win."

"Doubles one!" Yunho calls out. Baekhyun flashes a thumbs up at Yunho and Kyungsoo stands from his seat.

This isn't the first time Kyungsoo has fought for the championship title — not in doubles, and certainly not in singles — but it feels different this time, like he's ten or twelve again and he's still so small for a court for a court so big, fingers stubby and short that he can't even grip his racket properly. The solution has always been to grip the racket closer to throat, but he's not a kid anymore. He isn't playing for the sake of passing time when there isn't school or homework to be done, nor is he practicing opposite Jongdae or Chanyeol on court. Baekhyun's just beyond his shoulder, waiting for the coin toss and waiting for the umpire's signal to start.

"Heads," the chime at the same time. Baekhyun snorts, and one of the players from Dong-ah laughs. It's the same dark-haired that Chanyeol had identified as _the player._

"Be careful with that guy," Kyungsoo whispers in Baekhyun's ear even before Baekhyun can return to the baseline. Baekhyun doesn't ask, just keeps his eyebrows furrowed as Kyungsoo scrambles for the right words. "He plays dirty."

"Dong-ah's known for that," Baekhyun replies, voice faint. He pats Kyungsoo's on the head, fingers carding through his hair to ruffle it a little. "We have to play smart and quick; not much setting up."

Kyungsoo smiles at the umpire when he announces that it's a heads and that Whimoon's serving first. To Baekhyun, he says, "If you so much as feel like your legs are going to give you away, let me know."

"Hey, don't worry about it, _partner._ "

Several matches after and Kyungsoo still hasn't quite gotten used to the sound of the word rolling off of Baekhyun's tongue. He clasps a hand on Baekhyun's shoulder, squeezes it lightly, and offers a perfunctory smile before they start warm ups.

_Don't worry about it, partner._

 

 

One thing that Chanyeol forgot to warn about was Dong-ah's penchant for misleading opponents and making the first set way too easy for their opponents. Kyungsoo's almost surprised that they've managed to win the first set at 6-4, but as soon as the second set records hit 3-3, Dong-ah steps up their game, pulling off all these unimaginable trick shots — adding spin to the ball so that it almost always returns to the one who'd returned in prior to the last swing, serving aces upon aces that are more than fast and accurate for a junior tennis player.

4-4 in the second set now, and Baekhyun's already breathing heavily. "Let's push for 6-4?" Kyungsoo says, voice soft enough to express concern but with enough resolution to get the message across. Baekhyun nods vigorously, heading back to the baseline as Kyungsoo takes the first service.

"Kyungsoo, wait—"

"Hmm?"

Baekhyun grips his racket tight in his right hand. "Don't use it yet."

"Got it," Kyungsoo mumbles, then walks back to the service court.

 _Don't use it yet_ means sticking to his standard serves, the safe ones that haven't let him down just yet. He trusts Baekhyun enough to know the best type of play to use in this particular situation — it's not yet time to quickly wrap up the match, or maybe he can go a few more games. Baekhyun's usually good at knowing his limits, at reminding Kyungsoo of his own, and this request, weird as it may seem, is a piece of advice that Kyungsoo probably wouldn't regret taking.

Kyungsoo tosses the ball in the air, straight up, and aims a flat serve down the T. 15-0.

The rallies become much shorter as the match stretches to 5-5, 5-6, and eventually 6-6 in the final set. Dong-ah's players have their knees bent, palms flat on their thighs as they catch their breath. Baekhyun's slowed down considerably, and has put in extra effort in imitating the spin the opponents had used earlier to push the game to 5-5. "They're alternating between a topspin and an underspin," Baekhyun comments just before they switch courts. "Be careful when they start firing one topspin after the other; they're preparing for the moment when your body already gets used to the movement."

Kyungsoo coughs a little and reaches for the towel the ball boy offers him. "Waiting for my muscles to freeze."

"And then they'd fire a completely different shot," Baekhyun adds. The other pair is walking back to their positions. Baekhyun slips in one last statement before he moves forward, approaching the net. "Let's do _the thing._ "

 _The thing_ can be anything — the ah-un chanting to know who will be taking which shot as they use their normal singles style when they move across the doubles court, or maybe even the I formation they'd managed to pull off a couple of weeks ago. There's also the Australian formation, but Baekhyun's legs will give away any moment. Kyungsoo goes for — gut feel, running through the catalogue of information on Baekhyun that he has filed at the very back of his mind. Trying to recall how Baekhyun moves and letting his body react naturally.

 _You can't let your guard down,_ Chanyeol had said earlier. He never said, _stop having fun on court._

The first serve goes to Kyungsoo. Ten minutes, he tells himself — at their current state, the shortest they can last on court is another ten minutes without Baekhyun having to suffer cramps or an ankle injury. He tosses the ball in the air, slightly to the left this time, and tilts his racket so he can add more kick to the ball, swinging from left to right as the aims a service right between the opponent's feet. The ball bounces to the left, angle sharp enough that the player barely catches it by the head of the racket. 1-0, Whimoon.

Rinse and repeat for the next service, except Dong-ah's prepared to return it now, the receiving player moving to his left as Kyungsoo hits the ball with the sweet spot of his racket. The player catches it but the flick of the wrist isn't enough; the ball hits the highest part of the net, sending the ball back to the opponent's court. 2-0, Whimoon.

"You have to change the angle on your next serve. The other guy's running calculations through his head or something," Baekhyun says when they exchange high-fives at the middle.

"The black-haired one?"

"Yeah," Baekhyun confirms. "He's targeting your ankles; better be careful."

Kyungsoo nods. " _You_ be careful. Your form's off," Kyungsoo comments. He runs his eyes through the length of Baekhyun's legs. "Want to do the other thing? Can your legs still take it?"

Baekhyun laughs a little. "I don't know for sure, but they're not giving up on me anytime soon." The smile of his lips reaches his eyes; Kyungsoo exhales loudly. "Let's confuse the shit out of them."

The thing about poaching using the Australian formation is that it requires patience and a lot of moving. Kyungsoo takes the net, bending his knees and leaning forward, and he listens carefully to the screech of Baekhyun's tennis shoes — Baekhyun's just a few spaces shy of the middle line, teasing enough for the players on the other side to be forces to aim all shots to Baekhyun's better side.

Kyungsoo keeps his grip on his racket tight, nonetheless. He takes a deep breath as the opponent tosses the ball in the air — a normal slice serve that lands well inside of the service box. Kyungsoo returns with an easy forehand to the server's forehand, then he moves in as the person aims another backhand to Baekhyun's right. Baekhyun counters with his own backhand, and the ball bounces back and forth, Kyungsoo moving in and out towards the center as he waits for the moment when—

The other player cuts and aims a volley straight to Baekhyun's ankle, and the next thing that Kyungsoo hears is Baekhyun's muffled cry.

"Shit—" Kyungsoo drops his racket, dashing to where Baekhyun is. There's an ugly red patch on the skin, and Baekhyun gasps in pain when he attempts to pull his foot back. "Stop moving," Kyungsoo says, slapping Baekhyun's hand away, and he stands from where he is when the medics approach Baekhyun.

This isn't tennis. Dong-ah's goal is to eliminate the player of Whimoon. This isn't a sport — it's a fight to the death. The dark-haired man's cackling makes Kyungsoo wince; whoever said tennis was a joke was sorely mistaken.

Baekhyun is cleared for playing again a little over five minutes after, and Kyungsoo wraps his fingers around Baekhyun's wrist to keep him in place. "Hey, tell me if you can't play anymore and we'll call this match off," he says softly, eyes lingering on the patch of red on Baekhyun's ankle. It burns the image of a Baekhyun in pain at the back of his eyelids. "You might just injure your ankle all the more and—"

Baekhyun winces in pain for a while, but he shakes his head and straightens up, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he eases himself back into the same pattern of movement he'd employed in the game earlier. There's a more relaxed look on his face now. "I'm okay, trust me. Just… don't choke, Kyungsoo," is the only thing Baekhyun says before heading back to the baseline.

2-1 now in the tie-breaker and Kyungsoo can feel his right elbow throbbing in pain. He blinks a few times until the other side of the court comes into focus. _Don't choke,_ he repeats to himself. _Don't you dare choke this time._

Dong-ah is in the finals for a reason — their play in the tiebreaker is the best Kyungsoo has ever seen from anyone they've played against. Dong-ah takes the next point with an easy service down the line, and then the next as the player receiving Baekhyun's service aims a volley between Baekhyun's feet. Kyungsoo had been quick enough to run to Baekhyun's forehand side, but not quick enough to return Dong-ah's forehand shot to the baseline. He balls his right fist as the ball speeds past him. He can feel the fingers in right hand go numb.

There's the sound of Baekhyun gasping in the background, and Kyungsoo quickly looks to his side. Baekhyun's evening out his breathing, eyes fixed on the expanse of blue in front of him. When he looks up, he slips back into his classic smile and says, before heading back to the service box, "Gonna borrow your service."

Baekhyun isn't asking for permission. He's saying, _this is me trying to salvage the match, so you better do you part._ Kyungsoo nods, anyway, and looks in front of him, eyes fixed on the wrist of the player receiving Baekhyun's service.

Baekhyun's kick serve isn't the best in the game, but it packs enough power and topspin to make the ball heavy and unreturnable. The best chance of returning the shot is with a double-handed backhand, but there's still the highest point of the net keeping the ball from passing through and getting into the other side of the court. Baekhyun pumps his fist in his side, then taps Kyungsoo lightly with his racket, eyes seeking validation as he wiggles his eyebrows. 3-3 in the tie-breaker.

"Not as good as mine," Kyungsoo comments, smirking. Baekhyun waves him off with his left hand and returns to his side of the court.

It's the longest, most painfully gruelling two points after that, with Dong-ah dragging out rallies until Baekhyun's knees give away and Kyungsoo has to intercept the ball with a volley to the back. The man with black hair has been eyeing Baekhyun's ankle for the past two minutes or so, and Kyungsoo does his best to reach the balls aimed at Baekhyun with his forehand whenever he can. _Don't choke,_ he tells himself as the tie-breaker reaches 4-5, thanks to Baekhyun's drop volley. Baekhyun lets out a cry — of relief or pain, Kyungsoo can't tell at the moment, but Baekhyun is wincing again when Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder. The grip on Baekhyun's racket is loose.

"They're gonna slow down now," Baekhyun says from behind him. Kyungsoo bends his knees even more, left foot ready to move to the side at the strike of the ball.

The first serve catches on the net, and the second serve almost misses the tip of the net. Kyungsoo grins as he watches the ball roll over to Dong-ah's side of the court. The linesman's call is music to his ears. "Double fault!"

Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows as he watches the server toss the ball slightly to the left. He hears the light screeching of Baekhyun's shoes beside him and he tightens his grip on his racket in preparation for the serve he has to receive. He hits the ball to the opponent's forehand, and what follows is a rally of shots blazing over the net, routinary until the other player from Dong-ah hits a forehand to the back, and Kyungsoo watches the ball speed past him, watches as Baekhyun slides to the right, stretching his arm to lob the ball across the court.

"Shit—" Baekhyun's voice is loud enough to cut through the thick blanket of cheers, and Kyungsoo can hear the bounce of the ball off his opponent's racket, and he can see the ball just a few feet away. If he goes with a backhand, it will be too late, and Dong-ah will be up 5-6. A forehand won't be any good, either. Baekhyun's pained noises ring in his ear as he fixes his eyes on the ball, fingers going numb, arms shaking.

He takes a deep breath and switches his racket to his right hand, then hits the ball with a volley just a few feet shy of the net.

"What the—"

Kyungsoo stares at his racket in his right hand, the curl of his fingers on the handle, the light tremble shooting up his right arm. When he tightens his grip, there's a pain welling up in his elbow, so he switches back to his left hand, the racket finding a more comfortable fit. "Kyungsoo, what are you—" Baekhyun says, eyes wide when he approaches Kyungsoo, and the umpire's telling everyone to keep quiet, and the umpire's saying, "6-5, match point."

"Baekhyun, do it."

"You used your right hand—"

"We don't have time to discuss that here," Kyungsoo says through gritted teeth. " _Do the serve,_ Baekhyun."

Baekhyun looks at him for a while, then lets his gaze drop to the racket now in his left hand. "Do I swing more from the left?" Baekhyun asks before turning his heel to return to the baseline, and Kyungsoo gives him a thumbs up, a small smile, a curt nod.

Kyungsoo counts to ten as he approaches the net and bends his knees. He listens carefully to the bouncing of the ball just over his shoulder, to the movement of Baekhyun's feet. He takes a deep breath as the bouncing comes to a halt — the ball set up. Then the sweet sound of the ball hitting the strings of the racket fills the air.— the attack — and Baekhyun lands back on the ground, both feet on court, ready to take on another shot.

The ball lands right between the opponent's feet and bounces to the left, out of the court and into the wiring separating the crowd from the players.

Kyungsoo turns on his heel and lets out all the breath he's held in since the start of the service. Baekhyun's racket lays forgotten on the court, and this time it's Kyungsoo who takes a step forward, taking Baekhyun in his arms as the cheers grow louder.

"Game, set, and match, Whimoon! 6-4, 7-6(5)!"

 

 

Zitao loses singles three but not without putting up a fight, 5-7 7-6(10) 6-4, and Jongdae vows to avenge Zitao's loss as he powers through his match with well-timed forehand winners and clean service aces. He serves a total of twelve aces throughout the match, and Kyungsoo gives him a high-five when they meet in Whimoon's box again, before Chanyeol heads to the courts for the deciding match of the championship.

"Gonna give me a run for my money, huh? Taking the title of the best server from me now?" Kyungsoo teases. Jongdae shakes his head and envelops him in a hug, ruffling his hair before letting him go.

"So, you taught Baekhyun _the serve_ , huh?"

He risks a glance at Baekhyun who has taken it upon himself to console Zitao by choking up fake sobs and wailing for effect. Zitao has calmed down considerably, only a wistful smile on his lips and beads at the corners of his eyes serving as proof of his breakdown earlier. Baekhyun flashes a v-sign at Kyungsoo when their eyes meet, then traces lines down his face, pretending to cry as Zitao hits the back of his head.

Kyungsoo laughs a little. "Nah, he learned it on his own." To Chanyeol, he waves and raises his crossed fingers, then mouths, _kick them in the ass, captain!_

Chanyeol rarely ever gets to play in tournaments these days, ever since he was moved to singles one, but he moves like he hasn't stopped playing singles since he's met Jongdae. Chanyeol, whose long limbs can cover distances Kyungsoo would normally need two to three steps to cover, isn't anything like the awkward figure he is when he walks down the aisle or rounds up the players in time for Yunho to give everyone a lecture, then a pep talk. "I think this is good, too, for the two of us," Jongdae comments after a while, then leans on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "Time apart and all. I mean, we still practice together, but we're now on different ends of the court and—"

"He says it feels weird, not having you around," Kyungsoo confesses. He shoots a glance at Jongdae for a while, then turns his attention back to the game when Chanyeol lets out a victory cry, following a great rally. "That it will take some getting used to, and that he'd rather play doubles even if it means having to step back so you can do all your acrobatic stuff."

" _Mental_ acrobatics, you mean," Jongdae replies, snorting. "He's just saying that because no one's there to pick up after him anymore. You know him, he gets lazy sometimes."

Kyungsoo shrugs, then leans his head on Jongdae's own. "That's just how doubles is, I guess."

Jongdae lifts his head for a while and looks at him — just looks at him with a silly grin on his lips and a peculiar glint in his eyes. This is amusement, not the adrenaline of winning pushing Jongdae to do weird things that Kyungsoo normally cannot make sense of. "Yeah, I guess," Jongdae says, propping his clasped hands under his chin.

Kyungsoo looks at Baekhyun — now confined under a headlock, courtesy of Zitao, and subject to a fit of giggles from Jongin and Taemin. He shakes his head and just laughs, even when Baekhyun looks his way, sending pleas for help. This is partnership, having to deal with someone's quirks and trying to make the most out of them. This, coming to accept one's antics and coming to appreciate them, is teamwork. Putting up with Baekhyun requires a lot of hard work, but he's getting better at it; he's fast becoming an expert.

Kyungsoo laughs to himself. _This_ is doubles, indeed.

 

 

Yunho calls for a celebration after Chanyeol's win, but everybody knows he won't even make it past his acceptance speech with the way his eyes are glistening with tears right now. Chanyeol doesn't make things better, bursting into tears at the sight of the championship trophy and grabbing the person nearest to him — Jongdae plays the part of the victim this time — and burying his face in Jongdae's hair. "I can't believe we actually did it," Chanyeol says, voice slightly muffled in Jongdae's scalp, and Jongdae steadily rubs circles on Chanyeol's back, saying, again and again, "This is real. We did it. We won the championship!"

Beside Kyungsoo, Baekhyun sniffles, and Kyungsoo quickly snakes an arm around Baekhyun's shoulders to pull him close. It takes no more than a few seconds for Baekhyun's soft sobs to turn into tears, and Kyungsoo soaks them all up, fingers carding through Baekhyun's hair in time with Baekhyun's rhythmic breathing.

The trip back to school is quiet, save for Jongdae bursting into song from time to time and Yunho taking some calls, dropping names and thank you's and _yes, we'd be glad to have an exhibition match just for that; it would be an honor._ Baekhyun's fitful snores are the soundtrack of the trip, and Kyungsoo keeps his eyes locked on the scenery just beyond the window, fingers caged under the warm press of Baekhyun's hand.

 

 

"Don't wanna move," Baekhyun says, grumbling. "Don't wanna get up."

Jongdae nudges Baekhyun in the ass and gestures for Baekhyun to make room on the benches, but Baekhyun barely even budges, sticking out a tongue. "Nope, sorry, I'm the man who can't be moved," Baekhyun quips, English clear enough to earn a raise of an eyebrow from Kyungsoo, and Jongdae erupts into this peculiar squeal of delight that has Chanyeol half wincing, half cringing in his seat as he stuffs the last bit of pizza in his mouth.

"Please don't sully the song. I love The Script," Jongdae comments.

"Wow, you _actually_ have good taste in music!"

Jongdae bolts in his seat and wraps his fingers around Baekhyun's neck, grinning as he tightens his grip.

Kyungsoo has long left the crime scene, cleaning up the remnants of the small party in the locker rooms. He's busy arranging pizza boxes near the door when Chanyeol walks up to him, asking, "Do you two have anything planned after this?"

Jongdae still hasn't stopped threatening to put an end to Baekhyun's life, and Baekhyun's doing his best imitation of The Script's lead singer, belting out choice parts while Jongdae hits him on the chest. Kyungsoo shakes his head, mumbling, "Nah, nothing. I was actually hoping to hit some balls. Gotta clear my mind and stuff."

"Ah," Chanyeol says. He stands back up, shoulders dropping as he exhales loudly. "I... didn't think you'd actually use your right hand to play again, you know."

Kyungsoo straightens up and places the last box of pizza on top of the stack. There's light laughter spilling from his lips now, as he recalls the last few minutes of that tie-breaker. "I had to," he answers after a while. "Baekhyun would have taken another shot to the ankle if I didn't." He leans back on the wall, the cool tiles sending a shiver down his spine. He favors Baekhyun's hand on the small of his back over this, albeit the lack of support. "I didn't see it coming, either. I just—"

"Acted on impulse in the hoping of salvaging the point and protecting Baekhyun." Chanyeol breaks out into a grin. "I know."

There's silence for a while, until Jongdae breaks the ice, saying, "Get up— Get off me, Baekhyun! I have a date!" Kyungsoo quickly turns to Chanyeol, eyebrow raised and eyes wide as Jongdae continues, "Hey Yeol, what time are we leaving?"

"You two are going _on a date?_ " Baekhyun asks, a hint of amusement in the lilt of his voice.

Chanyeol doesn't answer; instead, he turns to Jongdae with a grin, awkward around the corners. "I was just waiting for you to finish killing Baekhyun. You good to go now?"

"Ew. At least wash your hands first," Jongdae comments as peels himself off of Baekhyun and gets to his feet, jabbing Baekhyun's arm lightly before gesturing for Chanyeol to come over. "I'm not sure if it's good to take baking classes after a long match…"

Chanyeol and Jongdae excuse themselves after a while, and Jongdae's baking tales are soon drowned out when the doors of the room snap shut.

The locker room is quiet, save for the occasional noise of water dripping from the showers. Baekhyun almost shrieks when a stack of food containers topples over, and Kyungsoo quickly rushes to his side, helping him make sense of the mess. They haven't really had much time to talk following their win, Baekhyun filing himself to the far end of the room or between other people during the small victory party in the locker room, and Kyungsoo had been busy talking to Yunho about scholarships and potentially playing an exhibition match for the talent scouts of Yonsei and Korea University to see.

"I hate silence," Baekhyun says after a while, after they've thrown the last of the packets of hot sauce into the waste basket. "Makes me feels so small. I don't need anyone telling me I'm tinier than I already am."

Kyungsoo chuckles. "If you're small, then what am I? A microorganism?"

Baekhyun laughs a little. "My pocket doubles partner."

Baekhyun's cheeks are a light shade of pink, brightest at the center, the hue slowly fading out as Baekhyun contorts his face in many different ways. "Thank you, by the way. I didn't think you'd—" His voice trails off, and he rests his hands on Kyungsoo's shoulders. Baekhyun's pinky sticks out, hovering the base of his throat, and Kyungsoo gulps hard on instinct.

Baekhyun takes a step closer — one step, and Kyungsoo can feel the light tremble of Baekhyun's hands. Two, and he can feel Baekhyun's breath hot on the tip of his nose.

"It was nothing. We're doubles partners; we're supposed to help each other—"

"Not put each other's careers at stake," Baekhyun interrupts. His right hand slides down Kyungsoo's right arm, stopping just above his elbow. "Thank you for risking your arm out there," Baekhyun adds, laughing a little. He rubs slow circles on the tender skin lightly. "I… didn't expect it."

Kyungsoo scrunches his nose. "Neither did I, to be honest."

The smile on Baekhyun's lips is indiscernible, and Kyungsoo berates himself for it. He's supposed to have Baekhyun memorized like the back of his hand now, like a song stuck in his head or a shadow play whose routine he's supposed to known inside out even with his eyes closed. He moves closer, like the lack of distance will help him understand Baekhyun more, better, _easier,_ and their noses bump, and he reaches up, curling his fingers on the base of Baekhyun's neck.

"You're not hurt, right?" Baekhyun asks. His breathing is even, but his fingers are cold, sending shivers down Kyungsoo's spine as Baekhyun runs his fingers along the length of Kyungsoo's face, tracing its contours. His hands land on Kyungsoo's collarbones. "Because if you are—"

"Will you kiss it better?" Kyungsoo teases. A grin breaks across Baekhyun's features. He can see the light in Baekhyun's eyes; it's blinding.

The hand on Kyungsoo's elbow slides down to his wrist, and Baekhyun brings Kyungsoo's wrist between them, kissing the flesh where the bone protrudes, then darting out his tongue before sucking on the skin. He plants kisses on the back of Kyungsoo's hand, then nips on Kyungsoo's fingers one by one, sucking lightly, and presses a kiss on Kyungsoo's palm when he finishes. "I feel like this isn't enough," Baekhyun whispers, lips dangerously close to Kyungsoo's ear, and Kyungsoo tilts his head to the side in invitation, closing his eyes as he takes a deep breath.

Kyungsoo lets his arms fall to his sides.

Baekhyun traces kisses down the column of Kyungsoo's neck, sucking on the base of his throat that leaves Kyungsoo laughs a little, the warm sensation tickling his skin. Baekhyun quickly moves back up, though, swallowing Kyungsoo's laughter in the warm press of his mouth on Kyungsoo's own. This isn't Kyungsoo's first, but it feels much more juvenile, less careful and calculated than those he'd shared with Jihoon in the past. Baekhyun kisses like a fucking kid, messy on the corners and with too much pressure as he sucks on Kyungsoo's tongue and nips Kyungsoo's bottom lip. Kyungsoo captures Baekhyun's upper lip and he sucks, slow and languid, Baekhyun moaning right into the open press of Kyungsoo's mouth.

Baekhyun's giggling when they pull away, cheeks flush with heat. Kyungsoo takes a service straight to the gut.

"I'm still in pain," Kyungsoo complains. He licks his bottom lip slowly, and Baekhyun takes him by the wrist, pulling him close.

The journey south continues when they slip into the showers, bodies slick with water as Baekhyun pushes Kyungsoo against the wall. Baekhyun drops to his knees and plants a trail of kisses from Kyungsoo's stomach down to his inner thigh, lips hovering the tip fo Kyungsoo's dick. Baekhyun's breath is warm against the sensitive skin, and Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, gulps hard when Baekhyun leans closer.

"May I?" he asks, and Kyungsoo simply nods. He runs his fingers through Baekhyun's hair, grip tight enough to keep him in check, but loose enough for comfort.

The first contact of skin on skin sends shivers down Kyungsoo's spine, and he tightens his grip on Baekhyun, nails digging into Baekhyun's scalp. Baekhyun moves in and out, bobbing his head as he slips a hand behind Kyungsoo to cup his ass. Kyungsoo can feel the slightest movement of Baekhyun's lips, the light upward tug before Baekhyun breathes out. Baekhyun licks on the underside of the shaft, draws out a long suck, and Kyungsoo lets out a grunt, a small sound. Baekhyun repeats the motion, sucking harder this time, and Kyungsoo's face falls forward, hands falling on Baekhyun's shoulders.

He can feel the warm press of Baekhyun's cheek on his inner thigh, Baekhyun's low humming only adding more tension to his muscles. He can feel his abdomen coiling up. "Baekhyun, please—" he says, pleading as he chokes somewhere towards the end, and Baekhyun looks up, gaze taunting when he slowly pulls back, Kyungsoo's half-hard cock coming off with a dull pop.

Baekhyun keeps his hands fastened on Kyungsoo's waist as he slowly gets up, and Kyungsoo slides his knee between Baekhyun's legs. "Kyung—soo—" Baekhyun's lips are hot against Kyungsoo's neck, and he hooks one foot around Baekhyun's ankle to pull their bodies closer. He can feel the light tremble of Baekhyun's body, the vibrations of Baekhyun's shaky breathing when Kyungsoo licks a stripe on the area under his jaw. Kyungsoo bucks his hips forward, craving contact, and Baekhyun winces when their cocks slide against each other, unceremonious, precum beading on the tip of his dick. 

Kyungsoo presses his lips on Baekhyun's as he takes both of their cocks in his hand, starting with slow, easy strokes, slowly picking up pace to match their ragged breathing.

Baekhyun buries his face in the crook of Kyungsoo's neck, sucking hard on Kyungsoo's skin as Kyungsoo pumps harder, each stroke more drawn out that the other. Baekhyun soft _ah's_ fill the air, ringing in Kyungsoo's ears, and Baekhyun soon comes, spilling all over Kyungsoo's chest with one last pump. Baekhyun draws a shaky hand up, thumb stroking the top of Kyungsoo's cock, and Kyungsoo comes not too long after with a low cry. He laps on the remnants of his release on Baekhyun's chin, the base of Baekhyun's throat, Baekhyun's collarbones, a corner of Baekhyun's mouth. There's still a hint of laughter bubbling Baekhyun's lips, so Kyungsoo catches it, takes it all until he can feel nothing but the vibrations of Baekhyun's laughter at the back of his throat, Baekhyun's hands sliding up and down Kyungsoo's back as he deepens the kiss.

"We should... clean up," Baekhyun says when the pull away, breathing still heavy and ragged. His cheeks are the most beautiful shade of red. His eyes are saying, _we could… play dirty_ ; the hand on the small of Kyungsoo's back is saying, _can we stay like this a little longer?_

Kyungsoo presses a light kiss on the tip of Baekhyun's nose. He slaps Baekhyun hard on the ass before reaching for the shampoo, then sucks on the back of Baekhyun's ear. Baekhyun's laughter is shrill and sharp, and it cuts Kyungsoo wide open.

He doesn't mind the pain at all.

"We should," Kyungsoo says, grinning. "We probably should."


	4. Chapter 4

**( game, set, and match )**

The start of the rigorous study season up until _Sooneung_ sees less practices for the seniors and more hours spent holed in classrooms long after class has finished, or extended lectures in hagwons. Chanyeol signs himself up for extra hours of science hagwon, and Jongdae takes advanced classes in mathematics and other languages despite his already-good exam results. "Can't be too sure," Jongdae says as he stuffs his readings in his bag, frowning at the sight of dog-ears.

He stares at the edges some before raising it in front of him and saying, "I'm gonna have this exchanged."

Baekhyun snorts. "It's your fault the manual got dog-ears. If you got a book from my store and asked me to exchange it with a new one _after_ getting those _imperfections_ on the book—"

"Whatever, whatever!" Jongdae dismisses Baekhyun with a wave of the hand. "I'm obviously kind enough to look past the dog-ears—"

Kyungsoo sighs dramatically. "Can you really study while seeing those _creases_ and _the folds_ in the corners?"

"You— Don't use your perfect English enunciation on me. I'm taking English and French and Chinese and I'm really struggling—"

Kyungsoo snorts. "I'm taking up the same languages. You're not the only one trying to get into a Liberal Arts course, you know."

"And yet!" Chanyeol interrupts, then rests a hand on Jongdae's shoulder. "Kyungsoo doesn't pronounce 'creases' as 'crisis'."

"I'm dropping out of this team, of this school, of your life _forever!_ "

Jongdae leaves in a huff, heavy bag in tow, and Chanyeol runs after him with the manual he's abandoned on the bench, laughter still bubbling on his lips.

"Hey," Baekhyun says now, back in his school clothes and out of his practice outfit. "Wanna grab food before we study?"

They head to a food cart much closer to the bus station this time, about a good ten minutes away from the school. Baekhyun's digging into a mix of kimbap and odeng this time, saying that it's _not quite a perfect day for tteokbokki._ "But _everyday's_ a perfect day for tteokbokki," Kyungsoo argues, poking at Baekhyun's lips with a slice of tteok, and Baekhyun agrees after a while. He rolls his eyes as he parts his lips, eyes fixed on Kyungsoo's own while chewing the tteok.

"So," Baekhyun begins, now stealing some tteok from Kyungsoo. "Sooneung."

Eight years ago, Kyungsoo would have laughed at the thought of spending so much time studying for a one-day, nine-hour exam that will dictate your future. He'd always been the studious type, but he'd somehow found a way to unwind despite the stress from school — that was when tennis came in as a form of release. Tennis keeps him sane, makes him look forward to life after school and before studying again until the whee hours of the morning and, now that it's being taken away from him _forcibly_ for a chance to go to the school of his dreams, for his future, he's not sure if tteokbokki will be enough to get him through the insurmountable schoolwork and readings he has to study just to get a good enough score to qualify for SKY.

 _Double fault,_ a voice at the back of his mind says. The sound of the buzzer is sharp in his ears. He can see Yonsei, Korea University, and Seoul University in the distance. There's the magic word for _scholarship_ at the tip of his tongue and something akin to respite in Baekhyun's eyes. He takes a deep breath and leans forward until their shoulders bump. "I just want to play tennis and sleep and not open my books for the next few weeks. _Months._ But of course that won't happen because we have to study for the national exams."

Baekhyun's laughter tickles his skin, too close for comfort now. The vendor's giving them a weird look, but then they bought all these dishes — they're entitled to a bit of _this_ right now.

"Wanna come over? We can study at my place," Baekhyun says. The tips of their nose touch. " _Halmeoni_ makes the best rice cakes and tea."

Kyungsoo chuckles. "You're making me want to sleep all the more."

"Sleep on the way to my house. After that, we study. Or you teach me the languages you've been studying and I'll try to solve these stupid math equations."

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. He laces his fingers with Baekhyun's briefly before pulling away with an easy smile. "Sounds like a plan," he says, then eats the last piece of tteok on his plate. Baekhyun grumbles. Kyungsoo sticks out his tongue in response, skin still red and sensitive from the heat of the gochujang and Baekhyun's warmth.

 

 

Three straight days of studying in Baekhyun's house and the travel seems like just a stone's throw away now. One minute, he'd be slipping into a bus with Baekhyun; the next, they'd be alighting, Baekhyun's hand a warm presence on the small of his back. There'll be tea and cookies and sweet food and basically everything Kyungsoo can ever ask for during study sessions. There'll also be Baekhyun's grandmother telling him about Baekhyun's childhood, Baekhyun's celebratory dance before drinking tea and the way he'd slump in his seat after one too many cups, completely pacified by the drink.

"You're the first friend from high school he has brought over, you know," Baekhyun grandmother mentions one time, while Baekhyun's busy whipping up breakfast in the kitchen. She'd asked him to stay the night since _it's the weekend, anyway. I'll talk to your mother if she thinks you're not really studying!_

Kyungsoo puts down the scarf he's helping her put together and furrows his eyebrows. "Not even… Chanyeol and Jongdae, _halmeoni?_ " he asks, cocking his head slightly.

"Oh, you know Baekhyunnie… He's loud and obnoxious but he doesn't like… having too many attachments." She giggles a little. "Maybe that's why I'm the only woman in his life."

Kyungsoo chuckles. "He doesn't need anyone else; you're more than enough for him."

"And you..." She looks up at Kyungsoo and reaches over, ruffling his hair a little. "Make the burden of having to take care of me much easier for him," she finishes. "You make him smile a lot, Kyungsoo. Don't stop doing that, okay?"

He can hear Baekhyun's noises from the kitchen, Baekhyun sounding off the distress signal and calling for help without actually using the words _help_ and _I'm helpless_ , but he instead he reaches for her hands, squeezing them lightly. "I think I cause him more headache than anything else, but I'm glad you think I make him smile," he says in reply.

"You always have, even when you were kids." She squints hard and scrunches her nose. "Has he ever told you that you're the reason he got into tennis?"

Kyungsoo's eyes widen. "I… am?"

"I could use some help here!" comes Baekhyun's voice, too loud for an early morning treat. His grandmother simply smiles at Kyungsoo and whispers, "You better try to salvage our breakfast," before picking up from where he has left off in the scarf.

Kyungsoo stands from his seat, a funny, lurching sensation at the pit of his stomach. It's not the hunger talking, but there _is_ the sound of Baekhyun's voice at the back of his mind, Baekhyun's obnoxious laughter filling his senses.

 

D-day finally arrives, and the cold winds bites with a vengeance. Kyungsoo stuffs his hands deep in his pockets; Baekhyun guides a hand through the small space, as well, fingers shaking as he slips them between Kyungsoo's own. Chanyeol is wrapped from head to toe, and the only thing that isn't covered is his eyes and the tip of his nose. Jongdae tiptoes to poke at it and sneers when Chanyeol simply scowls at him.

"I'm spending a day in bed after this, read books of play with my Gameboy," Kyungsoo mumbles, lips trembling as he tries his best to enunciate the syllables properly. "And I'm going to sleep and skip practice on Saturday and—"

"Eat tteokbokki with me?" Baekhyun whispers, lips dangerously close when he leans in.

Kyungsoo gives him a long look before replying, "Nah, sleeping sounds more inviting."

Baekhyun nudges him in his side with his elbow but grins, anyway.

The gates finally open and the students are asked to fall in line. The parents part with their children rather unwillingly, and it takes longer than the usual for Jongdae to say goodbye to his mother and pull away from the hug. "So, this is it huh?" Kyungsoo says, voice barely above a whisper, and Baekhyun turns to look in his direction, one hand outstretched, warmth offered in the soft smile on Baekhyun's lips. 

"Let's kick ass and ace this exam!" Baekhyun says, loud enough to get the attention of the other students passing by. Some snort at him, some call him crazy; Chanyeol goes for 'weird' but holds Kyungsoo's other hand, anyway, and forcibly takes Jongdae's hand to his right.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. It's now or never.

"Let's do this!"

 

 

The week following _Sooneung_ sees the seniors getting back on court, Yunho giving them drills so they can get back on track. There's one more tournament before the end of the year, one Yunho has already signed them up for saying that it will be good training, and, "Especially for these four who are applying for an athletic scholarship." Chanyeol mumbles something that sounds a lot like _thanks, coach, thanks for actually consulting us_ and Jongdae simply shrugs. Baekhyun's the only one who expresses enough interest in clocking in earlier than the usual for practice, saying there are a lot of things that he has to catch up on.

"Sometimes, I'm not sure if Baekhyun's just crazy or if he's just _really, really crazy,_ " Chanyeol comments. He scrunches his nose before tossing the ball in the air, serving to Kyungsoo's left. Kyungsoo grins before returning the shot with a forehand, and Chanyeol counters with a passing shot that ends up hitting the net. He blows at his bangs. "Who in his right mind would even want extra hours of tennis practice _after Sooneung?_ "

"He really needs that scholarship," is all the Kyungsoo says as he approaches the net. "And stop dragging your left foot — quick side steps, Yeol. You never—"

"— learn, I know," Chanyeol finishes. He hits Kyungsoo on the head with the strings of his racket very, very lightly. "So, which school are you hoping to go to?"

The talk on Kyungsoo's university of choice has always ended up with Kyungsoo giving an elaborate speech about pursuing dreams and going with gut feel, and half the time Chanyeol just stares at him as if saying, _and your point is?_ "I really want to go to Yonsei," Kyungsoo answers after a while, midway through a rally, and Chanyeol doesn't say anything. Kyungsoo takes it as a sign to go on. "You know I've wanted to enter Yonsei for the longest time."

"What's keeping you from going there, then?"

Kyungsoo laughs a little. "Test scores?" He laughs even more when Chanyeol rolls his eyes and hits another shot to the net, scowling as the ball makes contact with the net. Kyungsoo takes a ball out of his pocket and raises it in front of him, and Chanyeol nods before Kyungsoo tosses it in the air. "And the fact that Jihoon studies there."

Chanyeol snorts. "I'd ask why that's a problem, but I know you don't want to talk about it."

Kyungsoo hits a forehand passing shot to the baseline, and Chanyeol shakes his head as he watches the ball speed past him. "It's not much of a story, really."

"Then _serve_."

Chanyeol isn't the type of person to prod — he'll wait, patiently looking for an opening where he can aim an unreturnable shot, or prolong a rally until the opponent gives up and gives in. He isn't the type to think that things will just fall into place, but he knows that there are times when he simply can't make things happen — when he's incurred an injury or when Kyungsoo's mouth is flaring up with all the tteokbokki he has eaten and there's no milk in sight, when Kyungsoo has all these walls up and he won't toss the key over the wall so Chanyeol can catch it, even if Chanyeol only ever has to knock thrice if he wants in.

"Jihoon and I… had something going on in the past."

Chanyeol stands straight, arms falling to his sides. Kyungsoo checks Chanyeol's grip — loose enough that he can expect Chanyeol to not lash out at him, but still tight enough that Kyungsoo keeps a good distance between the two of them. He stands just a foot outside the service box. "He liked me, and I liked him. I mean, he's a likeable enough. He was nice the first few months, until exams drew nearer and—"

"And?"

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. He can feel a flash of pain in his elbow, shooting all the way up to his shoulder. "Until he found out I was a southpaw."

Chanyeol scrunches his nose. "I… don't understand how that can be bad."

"Well, Jihoon can be selfish," Kyungsoo confesses. "He found out by accident — I was out in the courts late, practicing alone. That was when I'd finally perfected the American Twist. I was serving with my left and when I got it right, I told myself I'd start playing as a southpaw again."

"And he didn't like that," Chanyeol says, voice dropping to a whisper when he adds, "Because he's grown accustomed to your right-handed play."

"And playing with my left will screw up our dynamics," Kyungsoo affirms. "The exhibition match was slated to happen a week after that night. He told me to never play with my left again, that he badly needed that scholarship in Yonsei and that a week wouldn't be enough to adjust to my new playing style."

Chanyeol worries his lower lip. He has his hands on the net now, and his eyebrows are furrowed. "And what did you do?"

Kyungsoo scoffs. "It was pretty stupid, when I think about it now. I could've just said yes because I was used to playing with my right, anyway, and being a southpaw means being the butt of all jokes. You know how it's frowned upon in amateur tennis. But… I said he was out of line and that he was being selfish. So he said, _if you want to play with your left so much, then you won't need your right arm anymore._ And then he… struck my right elbow with his racket."

"Oh my God, Kyungsoo. I didn't know he—"

There's a small, weak smile on Kyungsoo's lips when he looks up at Chanyeol. Chanyeol's shaking all over — sad news always gets to him more than it does to Kyungsoo, but Chanyeol's lips are _trembling_ and his breathing is uneven, and his fists are now pale. He reaches out to steady Chanyeol's hands, but Chanyeol only exhales loudly, voice choked as he says, "That fucker—"

"Hey, it's all in the past now." Kyungsoo rubs circles on Chanyeol's hands. "I can play again; that's all that matters."

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, closing his eyes in accord. Kyungsoo can hear the hitch in Chanyeol's breathing, can see the furrow of his eyebrows, and if only he can reach up then he can ease those creases and somehow make Chanyeol feel better. _Like doubles,_ a voice at the back of his mind says. Teamwork. Someone's down for the count, so the other covers for him. No one has to pull nobody further down.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Chanyeol asks. "I could've— The seniors that time were all going on about you being weak and unfit for tennis and that you were only good because Jihoon—"

"That fucker, yes."

"Because Jihoon—" The beginnings of laughter bubble on Chanyeol's lips. "I really, really hate you, you know that?"

Kyungsoo reaches up, tiptoes to the best of his ability, and Chanyeol meets him halfway by bending his knees a little. "And I hate you, too, for doing that," he replies, ruffling Chanyeol's hair. "And well, I wanted to sort out my shit before getting other people involved."

"I'm not one of those _other people_ , Kyungsoo. I'm your best friend."

Kyungsoo cackles. "Yeah. Could've been more, though."

Chanyeol scoffs, snorts, makes this unattractive noise that has Kyungsoo taking a step back and raising an eyebrow at Chanyeol. Chanyeol's skilled at masking his feelings, but the trick is in observing him during the first few seconds of a reaction — then you'll see the rawest of emotions, the pure ones that Chanyeol hasn't had the chance to filter yet, the ones Chanyeol sometimes can't be assed to hold back. "Nah, I don't—" Chanyeol laughs a little, worrying his lower lip, and his mouth slowly eases back into a smile. "I think you deserve someone who has the balls to call you out on your fears."

Baekhyun's yelling two courts away, pointing an accusing finger at Jongdae while gesturing something about the lines and the big court and — _Jongdae's face?_ Baekhyun makes clawing motions in front of Jongdae, racket tucked between his knees. Kyungsoo laughs a little. "You mean, someone who can annoy the shit out of me that I won't have a choice but to go with what he says?"

"Well…"

Chanyeol gives him a long look, both hands secure on his shoulders. He's warm again, and there's a peculiar smile on the curve of the lip. Kyungsoo looks around for an audience, then leans his head on Chanyeol's hand, the heat seeping through his skin. "That's a pretty good way to put it," Chanyeol says after a while, and he withdraws his hands, picks up his racket, and extends a hand in Kyungsoo's direction. "That was a great match."

"It was pretty one-sided, to be honest," Kyungsoo says in reply. There's still the hint of Chanyeol laughter in the corners of his lips. He counts to three, waiting for the ball toss, waiting for Chanyeol's serve. Chanyeol squeezes his hand, brief and warm.

"Yeah," Chanyeol says, chuckling. "Pretty one-sided.

Baekhyun takes the ball for him. The point has been won.

 

 

Life after Sooneung means sleeping earlier at night, or at least spending hours lying in bed, thinking about the results. Only a week until the test scores come out, and Kyungsoo's arranging application forms on his study table, each set of documents labelled according to which school is asking for what, color-coded so he won't lose track of his things.

"Do you do this all the time?" Baekhyun asks, turning over so that he's lying flat on his belly. He has his hands propped under his chin, and Kyungsoo simply throws a crumpled piece of paper at him.

"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate."

"You've been arranging and rearranging your papers for the past thirty minutes. If you _did_ accidentally throw something like—" Baekhyun raises the ball of paper and throws it back at Kyungsoo. "Like that one, then chances are you won't get it back. And you're welcome; I think that's supposed to be in your _Yonsei_ folder."

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at Baekhyun. "Fuck you," he mumbles, then slips the papers in their respective folders. "I just want to make sure everything's ready for when the results come out, you know? Make things perfect and—"

"Nothing's perfect. Nothing will ever be." Baekhyun pushes himself off the bed and extends his legs in front of him. "You just have to do your best and make the best out of what you have."

"Well," Kyungsoo begins, shifting in his seat so that he's facing Baekhyun. "That explains why you moved to Whimoon during second year. _Halmeoni_ said I was the reason you even picked up a racket—"

"She did _not._ "

"And that—" Kyungsoo gets up from his seat and makes his way to the bed, straddling Baekhyun as he gets on it, knees trapping the latter beneath him. "—you followed me all the way to Whimoon to worship me."

Baekhyun chuckles but snakes his hands around Kyungsoo's waist, anyway, pulling him close until Kyungsoo is sitting on his legs. "Okay, you're definitely making that thing up."

Kyungsoo stops for a while, taking a deep breath as he leans in until their foreheads bumps. "Of course I was," he whispers, and he presses his lips lightly on the corner of Baekhyun's mouth, smiling when he feels the upward tug of Baekhyun's lips. "But it's half true, you know that."

"Well…"

Kyungsoo traces the length of Baekhyun's face, fingers landing on the collarbones. Baekhyun stills. Baekhyun's almost always moving, heading in many different directions, but right now he's trapped under the weight of Kyungsoo's body, Kyungsoo's lips hovering his. It feels different, Kyungsoo thinks, when he's on this side of the court, when he's the one pushing and pushing until Baekhyun doesn't have anything more to give, taking and taking until Baekhyun so helplessly surrenders (but he knows Baekhyun has a lot of tricks up his sleeve; he'll never run dry of magic). "Well, thank you," Kyungsoo says, pausing to catch Baekhyun's upper lip between his lips. "For making that move, for going to Whimoon."

"I just wanted you to teach me that serve, y'know," Baekhyun teases, giggling. The vibrations tickle Kyungsoo's skin.

Beyond the door, there's the sound of his mother calling their names, telling them to come down, dinner is ready, _it's your favorite, Kyungsoo! Or was it Baekhyunnie's?_ "Your mom's calling," Baekhyun says, and Kyungsoo shakes his head, presses their lips together, mouths sliding inelegantly with every lick and suck and groan.

"Do we tell her we snuck in spicy snacks?" Baekhyun says, massaging his lips in front of the mirror.

Kyungsoo chuckles and reaches out to curl his fingers on the base of Baekhyun's neck to pull him closer, pulling away just before their lips brush. He turns the knob. "We can tell her we got into a row because you called dibs on Yonsei."

"But I _did_ call dibs on Yonsei!"

"Not before I was born, you didn't."

Kyungsoo gives Baekhyun a slap on the butt and tells him to go, go, get a move on. It will always be a competition, but nobody ever said somebody had to lose.

It's a win-win situation, really.

 

 

Three months until the day the results are released and scouts from SKY arrive in the courts. Yunho's got this commercial smile of his on his lips, and Chanyeol tries really hard to keep it together despite Jongdae and Baekhyun doing their best Yunho imitations just a few feet away. "We're really glad to have you here," Chanyeol says as a greeting, and they all bow to the scouts, hands clasped together in the hope of landing a scholarship in Korea's top universities.

"Since the scouts don't have much time, we'll just have two matches," Yunho explains. He shows the scouts to their seats, then turns to the four as he continues, "Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, you're up first. Chanyeol and Jongdae, your match starts ten minutes after theirs ends."

"We're… not playing as a doubles team?" Baekhyun asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Yunho shakes his head, a perfunctory smile on his lips.

The last time they'd ever had a match against each other was months ago, a match they hadn't even kept score of. Kyungsoo had won then, 7-6(9), and Baekhyun complained about the wind blowing too strong, the tension of his racket strings not being in good condition, the court seemingly too big for just one person to stand on one side of the court.

Kyungsoo lays a palm flat on Baekhyun's shoulders and squeezes hard enough to earn a yelp from Baekhyun. "Scared, _Byun?_ "

Baekhyun snorts, spine straight, chin turned up. "You wish."

Kyungsoo watches as Baekhyun walks to the net and nearly trips on his own foot, watches as Baekhyun cracks his neck and locks his arms behind his back, a new light in his eyes. It feels like 2003 again, that match in the open courts where he'd beaten Baekhyun to a pulp. Or maybe that match when they'd seen each other again for the first time in so long, and in Whimoon even. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath as Yunho signals for them to come closer for the coin toss. "Heads," Kyungsoo says, voice loud enough that it rings in his ears.

Baekhyun raises his eyebrows for a while before slipping back into a more composed look. "Tails, then. Heads gets to serve first."

Yunho flips the coin and snatches it midair, placing the coin flat on the back of his hand. Yunho then lets his other hand fall to his side as he calls out, "Heads!"

Kyungsoo gives Baekhyun a curt nod before retreating to the service court.

 

 

Baekhyun has been moving around quicker than when they'd last played alongside each other _and_ against each other. He's employing a completely different technique to reach the shots Kyungsoo has been aiming at the corners, sliding from left to right whenever possible, right arm extended as he hits a forehand down the line. The angle is deep enough that the ball bounces sharply outside the court even before Kyungsoo can attempt to return it with a backhand.

4-4 now. Baekhyun pumps his fist in the air as Yunho announces the score. Kyungsoo simply shrugs as he heads to the baseline, preparing to serve.

He takes time to bounce the ball with his hand, observing the way Baekhyun's eyes follow the movement of his hands. He tosses the ball in the air, draws his left hand back, and swings forward, cutting through the air with a slicing motion as he sends the ball to the other side of the court. Baekhyun is quick to react, stepping to his right and closer to the center as he meets the ball with a forehand. Kyungsoo counters with a backhand passing shot, and Baekhyun scowls when the Zitao calls the ball in.

 _Don't choke,_ Kyungsoo reminds himself. He tosses the ball in the air, slightly to the left, and adjusts his swing from the extreme left, moving to the right as he hits the ball. He can see the faintest hint of a smile on Baekhyun's lips. 30-0.

Kyungsoo hits a flat serve to the middle this time, and Baekhyun reacts quickly enough to counter with a double-handed backhand. The ball catches the tip of the net and tips back into Baekhyun's side of the court, and soon Baekhyun's laughing out loud as Zitao calls the ball a fault, giving the point to Kyungsoo. 40-0.

"Is this the part where I wait for you to screw up your own game?" Baekhyun asks, grinning. Kyungsoo simply shakes his head.

In this dream, he's hitting clean shots, playing carefully enough that he won't make wrong calls as to the strokes he's supposed to employ but not too stiff that he second-guesses himself for a split second before hitting the ball. In this dream, he's at 40-0, just a point shy of keeping his service at 5-4, and setting himself up to win the match at 6-4. He clenches his fists, nails digging deep into his skin, and in a blink of an eye he can hear Yunho telling him to get going and serve, can see the challenge scrawled all over Baekhyun's skin, the teasing glint in his eyes, the upward curl of the lip.

He tosses the ball in the air again — only slightly to the left — and draws his left arm back, waiting for the ball to fall to the exact spot where he wants it to be before swinging from left to right. He exhales as he hits the ball, the sound of the ball hitting the sweet spot making him smile on instinct. Game, Do — 5-4.

"Hey, don't choke," he calls out to Baekhyun, and Baekhyun just rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue at him as he dribbles the ball with his hand, preparing for his service game.

Kyungsoo bends his knees and grips his racket tight. Baekhyun serves.

 

 

"Well, someone's nervous."

Kyungsoo looks to his side and raises an eyebrow at Baekhyun. A huge crowd isn't a foreign sight to him, especially in a match, but the dome makes the court seem so much bigger than it is. He's lost all the feeling in his hands since they've entered the stadium, and Jongdae's chants of _we are the pride of the nation; we've got to do our best. This is the Olympics. We can't screw things up._ only make his insides turn all the more.

"Says the guy who dropped his service game and let me win 6-4 in front of SKY's scouts," Kyungsoo teases. He clears his throat, clenches his fists, then unclenches them again. "Aren't you, K.U. kid?" he adds, nudging Baekhyun with his elbow. "Oh, I'm sorry — the _pride_ of Korea University, I mean. I keep forgetting that people there hate it when _outsiders_ abbreviate the university's name—"

Baekhyun scowls, one foot hovering Kyungsoo's own. He applies pressure on it just before Chanyeol can look over his shoulder, mouthing, _someone make Jongdae stop, please?_

Two years of tennis training in university, of playing in the professional tennis scene, and Kyungsoo still feels like he knows nothing about tennis but the types of grips and how to toss a ball. He feels like he's ten again, or maybe even eight, still holding a pan in his hand and playing with a pomelo, both the thrill and fear of getting caught by his mother driving him to try out something he's never done before. "Doubles two for Korea?" says the umpire, and Baekhyun rests a hand on the small of his back, pushing him forward just slightly.

"Well I'm really fucking nervous," Baekhyun whispers as they pass the gates. They follow the umpire to the net, and Kyungsoo keeps his eyes on the ground, like at any moment he'd trip on his feet and screw things up. "Any idea how I can fix that, genius from Yonsei?"

"Years after and you're still counting on me to pick up after you?"

Baekhyun cackles. "Old habits die hard."

They're up against Australia today, and the umpire's asking them to choose a side of the coin. He acts on instinct, says, "Heads!" as soon as the question is given. Baekhyun makes no move to counter, just nods in agreement. Kyungsoo watches as the umpire flips the coin, as he takes it and lays it flat on the back of his hand. He takes a deep breath and thinks of all the matches he's played — the victories and losses, even the draws — late nights spent practicing and running through tennis routine in his head. He thinks of standing on the court alone, of looking over his shoulder to find a soothing presence just beyond the baseline, giving him a toothy grin and a thumbs up as he mouths, _don't choke, Kyungsoo._

He thinks of fulfilling dreams. He dreams of winning the gold for Korea.

"Heads. Korea takes the opening serve."

He turns on his heel, and Baekhyun's racket finds his as they make their rackets clash in the air, the soft sound of the contact making Kyungsoo smile. Opposite him, Baekhyun is grinning, his smile reaching his eyes. There's still the same old Baekhyun he played against back in 2003, the same Baekhyun he has trained with back in high school — Byun Baekhyun whose dreams he'd shared with when they played doubles, when they slipped back into singles, and met again on court to play alongside each other, two souls yearning completion.

Kyungsoo takes a step back from the baseline and tosses the ball in the air. He can hear Baekhyun's light laughter a few feet away.

He dreams with Baekhyun.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The entire fic is set in 2010. The last section, the part where Kyungsoo, Baekhyun, Chanyeol, and Jongdae represent Korea in the Olympics, happens in 2012.  
> 2\. The rehabilitation facility at [Arabellastraße](http://www.knie-muenchen.de/english/contakt.html) is a real place.  
> 2\. Goran Ivanisevic, Andy Murray, and Michael Chang _did not_ take a blow to their tennis playing arm and get injured because of it, but these tennis players _are_ real.  
>  2\. Quick lesson on the [parts of a tennis racket](http://www.tennis101.com/anatomyofthetennisracquet.htm)! The beam is the frame of the racket, while the sweet spot is somewhere towards the center of the face of the racket. It's where you want the ball to hit so you can return it with a nice enough shot. The throat is the empty triangular space just between the head of the racket and the grip. The grip is the handle of the racket.  
> 3\. Andy Roddick's matches mentioned in this fic (winning over Dudi Sela and losing to Novak Djokovic) are real.  
> 4\. _Hagwon_ is the Korean term for "cram school", but more than just providing necessary tutoring sessions for students struggling with their grades, _hagwon_ can also help students who are looking for supplementary education and looking to advance their knowledge in preparation for a big exam.  
>  5\. _Bungeoppang_ is a Korean pastry that is much like the Japanese taiyaki.  
>  6\. The _ah-un_ technique was shamelessly taken from Prince of Tennis — the match where Momoshiro and Echizen teamed up for doubles in particular.  
>  7\. The stores in Kolon Sporex in Seocho-dong are fictional. The sports center, however, does exist in real life.  
> 8\. _Sooneung_ is the Korean College Scholastic Ability Test, held only once a year, every second or third Thursday of November.  
>  9\. SKY is an acronym for the top three universities in Korea — Seoul National University, Korea University, and Yonsei University.  
> 10\. Students in Korea hoping to take a Liberal Arts course when they go to college are required to know at least four different languages — Korean, English, and then two others.


End file.
